Shadow Memories of Goblin Past

**Memories of Goblin Past**

The man picked up the net and dragged it to the boat with the others. It was a monotonous task, but he liked the rhythm.

"Here," said Joshua to the man, handing him a cup of coffee and a newspaper. "Coffee break. You've been at this for six hours. We're all exhausted; you should be too. You stayed here four hours later than the rest of us last night; you got here three hours before the rest of us this morning. You should look like death incarnate, but you aren't even sweating…"

"…so have a drink and stop making us all look bad!" finished the man. "I've heard it all before, Josh."

The two shared a laugh and the man sat on the edge of the dock, looking back at the New York skyline.

"So," said Joshua quietly. "Who are you today?"

The man gave a sad smile and looked out into the ocean. "I still don't know. Today, call me John Smith."

Joshua laughed with the ease of experience in this conversation. "Original. Anything in the paper?"

The man who chose the name John Smith for the day looked over the front page. "Spiderman involved in destruction of crime ring. Aided by unknown man with a terrifying laugh," he read.

#Flash!#

_…A terrifying laugh…_

_…Spiderman swinging up toward me…an insane laugh…shooting away from Spiderman…toward the city center…weaving back and forth… Where am I? …How am I here? …People… screaming…pointing…_

#Flash!#

The man gasped and reeled, dropping the coffee, letting the cup bounce away on the wooden dock.

"What's wrong?" asked Joshua, concerned.

The man rubbed his eyes, looked around. "An…image. I saw something in my head."

"A memory?" asked the man in shock.

"Just an impression," whispered the man. "Of Spiderman."

"Spiderman?" asked Joshua. "Maybe you were rescued by him."

The man shook his head, shivered. "No."

"Maybe you were a reporter, then. Spiderman's been in a thousand papers."

"Maybe."

The captain of the fishing boat blew his whistle.  The break was over.

***

That night, sitting on the edge of the deck, the man looked out at the dark water. Thinking hard, he looked back at the paper from the morning, the paper that gave him the flash. He stared hard at the image. "I want to know," he whispered to the scrap of paper. "I have to know. I want to remember!"

#Flash!#

_…Shooting through the canyon…no, not the canyon, buildings…on all sides…weaving in between them…_

..._huge explosions…_

_…An insane laugh…_

#Flash!#

The man gasped, and fell to the deck. He sat for a moment, then jumped to his feet, and ran to the cabin.

He ran into the small dormitory for the crew, and shook his friend awake.

"What? What is it?" he mumbled.

"Joshua, I have to know!" the man shouted at his friend. "What happened? Where did you find me?"

Joshua woke up just enough to register the panic in the man's face, and hauled himself upright. "It was four years ago. You were wandering the cemetery. The captain found you. He brought you back to the boat, and we spoke to you, asked you your name."

"And I didn't remember." The man looked pale. "I asked if I could stay with you."

"And you've been here ever since. Why didn't you want to go back? Find your family? Find out who you were?"

The man thought. "I don't know. But something inside me said not to go back."

Joshua said nothing.

The man took a deep breath. "What cemetery?"

***

Running through the night, the man eased into a comfortable speed, leaping over junk with the grace of a gazelle, not even realizing the speed he ran at. Moving toward the goal.

The cemetery.

He made it all too soon, still not understanding what he expected to find. The gates before him were locked.

Suddenly, inexplicably, the man was angry. He roared in rage at the gates and shook them hard. The scream drowned out by the sudden clap of thunder.

As the rain started to fall, the man fell to his knees before the iron bars. Lightning flashed, searing his eyes, the rain pounding against his skin. The man leaned back and gave a challenging glare to the sky. "Who am I?" he roared in a raspy voice.

#Flash!#

_…"Who are you?" he heard his voice say in fear. "Where are you?"…_

_…It was a plush room. He was surrounded by, couches, suits, carpet, mini-bar. And an insane laugh cackled around him..._

_…"Follow the cold shiver running down your spine," answered a raspy voice…_

#Flash!#

The man gasped and leaped to his feet, pushed hard at the bars, and actually felt the metal give.

Amazed, he pushed harder, and the metal links snapped, the gate collapsing.

Without pausing to wonder, he leaped over the wreckage in a single bound, and started running. His footsteps splashing up the mud, gravestones flashing by faster than the sudden lightning.

He was going somewhere, up a hill. Why? What was there? What was calling him on?

A raspy laugh echoed around the graveyard.

The man stopped like he had been glued to the muddy ground. "WHO ARE YOU?" he screamed at the rain and thunder.

_"Come and get me,"_ whispered the raspy voice.

The man started running again, unsure whether he was heading toward the frightening voice, or away from it. Back up the hill.

_"Getting warmer,"_ cackled the voice, beckoning him onward. 

The man was at the top of the hill. Looking around wildly, he paused at a tree on top of the hill and gasped for breath against the sudden cold in his chest.

#Flash!#

_…Spinning around…out of control!_

_…A screaming rasp of anger…"We'll meet again, Spiderman!"_

#Flash!#

An insane laugh rang out.

The man gasped, reeling from the flashes. "Spiderman will pay," he said to himself.

_"Yes, he will."_

The man spun toward the noise, coming face to face with…

…a crypt. A room made of iron and stone, sealed against the centuries. Without knowing why, he walked toward it, half in fear, and half in awe.

He put his hand against the door and pushed. The door moved easily, the lock snapping as if it were made of plastic.

The room was dark, but he could see it clearly, a metal board with swept, tapered edges, a large square bag…

A coffin.

At first he avoided it, looked over the board, the sleek and dangerous lines.

He looked at the bag resting atop it, bulging with small round shapes.

_"Look familiar?"_ cackled the voice.

The man did not react, but he knew something in his heart. He knew this voice.

And it was coming from the coffin.

"What does it mean?" he asked the polished wooden box.

_"Why not ask me to my face?"_ laughed the voice.

Steeling himself against his own revulsion, he reached out to the coffin with a shaking hand.

And threw it open.

Inside was a prone form, covered in a sheet.

He threw it off, too close now to turn back.

It was the form of a monster. A demon from hell dipped in green. A gaping toothy jaw, fierce yellow eyes, arms folded over an armored chest like a sleeping mummy. It was a nightmare of steel and bone, the very image of the green creature making him recoil.

But even as he knew his horror he knew that he recognized this monster. As if he had seen it before.

As if he belonged to it.

#Flash!#

_…"In two weeks, they're going to pull our funding, give it to Quest, and OsCorp will be dead!  Sometimes, you just have to do things yourself."…_

#Flash!#

_… A weasely man in wire rimmed glasses. "I think we have to take the whole line back to formula."…_

#Flash!#

_… A bright green swirling gas…_

#Flash!#

_… The little weasely man… choking in terror… a strong hand wrapped around his throat… his rasping voice… "Back to formula?"… A hideous snapping of bone…_

#Flash!#

_… Speeding through the streets… a screaming whine filling the air…_

#Flash!#

The man fell against the wall, slumped to the floor. "Dear Lord," he whispered.

_"Spiderman will pay,"_ whispered the demon's voice in reply. _"And we will rule. None will stand against us. You know that. You know me. Absolution is in your reach."_

The man stood and walked back to the open coffin, and the armor resting peacefully within. "And if I say no? If I just walk away?" he addressed it.

_"You can't say no."_ The fixed metal mouth seemed to smile at him. _"You can fight me, but I will always be there, hiding behind your eyes, waiting for you to weaken. You cannot run, because where you go, I follow, within the darkest cavern of your soul. Admit it. I am you, and you are I. Do not try to escape, because you can't."_

The man thought it over; he knew it was real. He could feel the power in his limbs. He could sense the strength, the electric unbelievable power.

And he laughed.

***

The armor still fit. 

The board responded instantly. It rose from the floor, its hum announcing to all that would listen:  An overlord once again walks the earth.

He balanced on the glider, wheeled it around toward the wall of stone. Stomped down on the board's pedals.

***

With a deafening roar, the stone crypt exploded with frightening force, stone chunks hurling in all directions. 

And shooting from the carnage in fiery glory, with a cackling laugh emerging from his steel jaw, the Green Goblin rose from the flame, a flying angel of death, emerging victoriously into the storm, engorged on the glory he felt.

At a thousand feet high, he wheeled to face the city, thunder and lightning raging behind him.

"SPIDERMAN!" the Green Goblin screamed over the storm. "YOU WILL DIE! WE WILL KILL YOU! AND THEN, WE WILL RULE THE WORLD!"

Thunder clapped behind him, and he threw once last glance back at the burning grave. He watched as the flames rose against the rain, melting the nameplate on the crypt:

_"Here lies Norman Osborn."_

Cackling insanely, The Goblin spun his glider and flew it toward the distant skyline, a fiery, demonic phoenix of death!

Chapter Two

"I'm glad we got all these off the street," said Peter Parker.

Stephen Cranston nodded as the last of the long crates was loaded into a truck. The men were watching, from the safety of Moe Shrevnitz's cab, the police collect the weapons captured by their alter egos the previous night. Long cases of everything from handguns, to sniper rifles, to grenade launchers, were confiscated and taken away.  "It's five thousand less handguns, 5 thousand less rifles, 6 thousand less shotguns and 500 less grenade launchers that would go to the highest bidder," Stephen clarified.

"They probably still will at the next police auction," Moe wisecracked.

Stephen laughed.  "Now there's a thought.  My personal armory could use restocking."

"With all that stuff?  You could restock yours and about a thousand other armories," Peter said, shaking his head. "No offense, Stephen, but ever since I teamed up with you, my life has felt just like a Godfather movie. Everywhere I turn there's another Al Capone wanna-be popping off a few rounds. Usually finding an innocent soul in the process. Whatever happened to the good old days when the bad guys all wore spandex and wanted to take over the world?"

Stephen smiled. "Careful what you wish for, Pete."

"Well," Peter said, clapping his hands together, "with the month long gun-hunt over, the day's shaping up to be lovely and dull; A very pretty, dull, serene, boring, glad-about-it, mad-about-it, peaceful day. We don't see enough of them."

Stephen looked whimsically at the sky. "Then, here's to tomorrow. Now just a bit safer, and may it be as quiet, and as uneventful, as today promises to be."

***

In a high-rise apartment, with huge bay windows and a great view of the city, Osborn watched the walls of his new home. He had cleared out the owners fast, and by the time they were found, he would have succeeded in his mission, and have no further use for the apartment.

After his redecorating job, chances were the tenants wouldn't have wanted it anymore anyway.

In the largest room, with the best view, he sat in a plush chair, the costume and mask in another chair across from him. The walls were lined with pictures and articles of Spiderman. Osborn had been listening to his other half talk, telling him all the details of things that were, all the moments he could not remember.

"Why must we do this? Why must we kill this man?" Osborn asked, clipping out the next article, searching for an empty spot on the wall.

_"We offered Parker every break, he rejected us. We offered his other half, Spiderman, the world, he rejected us. Both of us he spurned. Betrayal is weakness to the cause, and that must not be tolerated."_

Osborn once again felt himself drawn toward the words of his dark side. "To allow him to continue would be to invite betrayal from others once we rule."

_"Correct,"_ the mask seemed to whisper. _"It is for the greater good."_

Osborn glued the next scrap of paper to the wall. "But why this obsessive search for records of him? We know everything about him. We know his powers, we know his tactics, and we know his NAME. Why do we do this?"

_"In four years, much has changed. The public no longer cries out for his blood. There is much that we have missed. Only a foolish warrior goes into battle without knowing the layout of the battlefield. We must find his new weaknesses first."_

Osborn turned to look the grotesque mask in the eye. "But we know where he was. We know he is still in the city. Chances are that he hasn't strayed far from his usual formula. We can use other methods to find him. We want to get his attention, yes? Why not try the direct approach?"

_"Because then he will be equally direct. He would have more strength if we attacked him on his terms. We have to show a little finesse this time."_

"So we unsettle him. Terrify him. Fight him in arenas where he cannot fight with his typical strength."

The presence in his mind seemed to consider. _"Tell me more."_

Osborn took a breath. "I have a plan."

***

In a pinstripe suit, Norman Osborn walked into the eternally busy offices of the _Daily Bugle_. The atmosphere was frantic, as it was at most newspapers, and the room was swallowed in a constant stream of voices that bordered on white noise. But then, just as Osborn was looking around the offices for the familiar face he sought, a single voice made itself obvious over the din. "Robbie! Get in here!"

Osborn recognized the voice instantly.

So did The Green Goblin. _"Jameson," _he sneered silently in Osborn's head. _"Sniveling excuse for a blowhard. I should have killed him when I had his neck in my hand. He knew Parker was giving him those Spiderman pictures. He hid Parker from us."_

_"He was protecting his sources,"_ Osborn countered silently, trying to calm his Mr. Hyde-like side. _"Are you calm now? We have to be calm to do this right."_

_"Protecting his sources? Bah! He didn't even know what his sources were! He's such a pathetic newsman that he didn't even notice that he has SPIDERMAN on his payroll! Newshound indeed. What does he know? I still say that this is a bad idea. We should do this my way,"_ Goblin growled.

_"We did it your way four years ago. If you create a scene, then Spiderman will know we are back. Remember, we have to show finesse."_

_"What if Jameson recognizes you?"_ The Goblin raged.

Osborn actually laughed at that. _"Jameson? First of all, my face looks a lot different that it did four years ago.  Second of all, he's not looking for me--I am dead, remember? Finally, it's Jameson! He skipped out on every fundraiser, he never went to any of the meetings, and he rarely even looked me in the eye. Despite the funding OsCorp gave him, he called me a 'self-aggrandizing bastard.'"_

The Goblin inside his mind growled and hissed with barely restrained fury. _"You are a self-aggrandizing bastard. Let's just do this. I have a spider to squash."_

Osborn nodded slightly and walked into Jameson's office.

***

"What's going on with these ad placements, Robbie? You've got ads from Donut King next to ads for Weight Watchers! You've got the ads for the next blood drive next to the promos for a vampire movie festival! Tell me you didn't come up with this layout!"

Osborn was impressed.  Jameson managed to get that entire sentence out in one breath.  He leaned further into the office to interject.  "Excuse me? Mr. Jameson? My name is Harvey Je'kall. I was told to see you about hiring one of your people."

"My people have work already," Jameson snapped, brushing him off. "Robbie? I'm still waiting."

"J.J., the fault lies in the connection between the news and the promotions department," Robertson, long used to his boss's rants, sighed. "They're trying to get the most flexible layout they can, because half the stories for the front page aren't in yet."

When Jameson heard this, he wasn't interested in logic. "NOT IN YET?"

The Green Goblin silently fumed in a slightly amused impatience. _"I still say my way is better. Look! The wall is as good as new. They could rebuild it again."_

Osborn ignored his not-so-silent inner demon and tried again. "Mr. Jameson..."

"Are you still here?" Jameson said, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Go away. Robbie, you tell whoever hasn't gotten their stories in yet that if I don't have them on my paper in time, then they can forget their next five paychecks. Hell, we could do with the cutbacks."

"There's plenty of money in what I have to say, Mr. Jameson," Osborn interrupted.

That little statement actually created a moment's silence in the office as Jameson briefly thought that over while chomping his cigar. "Robbie…close the door on your way out."

Robertson beat a hasty retreat out the door and shut it behind him.

Jameson suddenly became a polite and patient host.  "So, what can I do for you, Mr. Je'kall?"

"I am looking for a reporter who works here," Osborn said, in as calm and smooth a voice as he could muster up. "A photographer, actually.  He came highly recommended, and I wish to hire him for a private photo-shoot. Naturally, I would gladly reimburse your paper most generously for the time he spent working for me and not for you. Plus a bonus if he delivers quality work.

Jameson fairly beamed at this. "You can count on quality work from my people. Which photographer did you have in mind?"

"I believe his name is Peter Parker."

The mask of politeness dropped from Jameson's face so fast that even The Goblin was surprised at his speed.  "PARKER?" bellowed Jameson. "If you want to find that traitorous little weasel that I once considered a photographer, then you go over to The _Classic_, where they'll print heroic stories about monsters and call it fact. You go over to that tabloid with a trust fund, and call whatever incompetents they have in charge, and tell them that you're looking for a waste of donor organs that can point and click. When you're through with them, then come back to me, and find a quality newspaper, which dropped from third highest circulation in the city to the tenth lowest, because someone else had stories about a public menace, and a laughing invisible man, that the ignorant, idealist public thought were better."

Both Osborn and The Goblin were blown back by the strength of Jameson's rant. The Goblin however, was amused. _"Well," _he told Osborn silently. _"It seems that Jameson did have some skills in reading people after all. To the Classic!"_

Osborn agreed.  "Thank you for your time."

Jameson stubbed his cigar hard into his ashtray while the door was still swinging shut. "Robbie! Get in here!"

***

Outside, Osborn started looking for a taxi.  _"What did he mean by 'Laughing invisible man'?"_ Osborn silently asked The Goblin.

_"I don't know,"_ The Goblin answered inside his head.  "_He couldn't have meant me. I was pretty well noticed."_ Silence, as if the other personality was in deep thought. _"Wasn't there something in those news clippings about Spiderman teaming up with some other vigilante?"_

_"The Shadow?" _Osborn scoffed silently. _"He was a myth when I was a kid. If he's still around, then he belongs in a nursing home by now. He won't be a problem for us, and that's assuming he ever existed in the first place."_

_"Well, unless he gets between us and Spiderman, he doesn't matter."_

Osborn nodded, and threw a man who was about to get into a cab aside. Without bothering to see where he landed, Osborn got into the cab.  "New York _Classic_," he told the driver.__

Chapter 3

"I'm looking for Peter Parker," Osborn said to the secretary in the paper's front lobby.

"Then boy, are you in the wrong place," laughed the woman behind the desk.

The Goblin snarled at the impertinence. And Osborn struggled to keep his other half from taking control. "I was told that he works here."

"Sure, but he never actually comes in. He and his partner are always out.  They claim it's on assignment.  We have a betting pool on when they'll next use their office."

"Partner? Who is that?"

The woman behind the desk narrowed her eyes just a little. "I'm sorry.  Did I get your name?"

Osborn fought to keep The Goblin from reaching over and beating it out of her. "I'll come back later."

***

Peter answered the door of his condo to find Stephen leaning against the frame with two manila folders in his hand. "Vacation's over!" he declared.

Peter made a sad moan.  "I swear to God, you're a workaholic."

Stephen shrugged.  "I remember my mother saying something about 'idle hands, devil's playground'."

"Then boy, you must be Heaven-bound."  

"Ha!" laughed Stephen. "No chance. Heaven won't take me and Hell's afraid I'll take over. I'm going to live forever."

"Only because I keep you that way." Peter let him in. "Where'd you get those, anyway?"

"Stopped by the office to pick up our messages."

Peter raised an eyebrow.  "Who won the pool?"

Stephen laughed.  "Well, Jenkins would have if I'd actually been seen there.  But I wasn't about to let him collect the pot this week."  He held up the two folders.  "Take your pick: There's the mayoral press conference over amendments to last month's budget. Or Geeks-R-Us."

Peter gave Stephen a look.

"The yearly Technology Expo," Stephen clarified. "Prototypes of all sorts of ridiculous inventions, latest techno-toys, and this year's guest of honor, the first commercially-available electric car."

Peter gave him an exaggerated serious expression.  "So, I could either walk into a room full of politicians and listen to them deftly weave words with a precision of avoidance that rivals your own, or I could go and check out the newest toys and drool over them like a kid in a candy store. Let me think about it."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Peter, I have an idea.  I would be willing to go to the press conference for you. You'd probably enjoy the expo more than I would."

Peter tried to suppress the smile threatening to upturn the corners of his mouth.  "Wow, that caught me completely by surprise. This offer is coming straight out of the blue. Oh, I could never ask you to do that, though."

"Well, if you insist," Stephen said, pulling the folder away.

Peter snatched the folder out of his hand with unbelievable speed. "Now look what I've done, I've offended you."

Stephen snorted back a laugh. "O.K. You go and commune with the other nerds and geeks, and see if you can find a few good pictures."

Peter was already dressed in his Spiderman costume and leaping for the window. "Bye."

***

_"My patience has limits, Osborn."_

Norman kept flipping the pages of the phonebook. "Easy, easy. So far we've tracked down his place of employment, confirmed that Spiderman has become more popular, and scoped out his old home, confirming he doesn't live there any more. We're doing O.K., we just have to get his attention now, and put him where we want him. Finesse. Remember finesse?" he said aloud quietly.

_"I'm starting to regret saying that. Just make it quick. What are you doing anyway?"_

"The last time we got Spiderman to come out and play, we did it by giving him considerable bait. We can use the same cheese this time too."

Goblin laughed in his head. _"Wonder how the little lovely will react to seeing us again?"_

Norman smiled. "We have to find her first." His finger slid down to the name. Mary Jane Watson.

Fighting back The Goblin's cackle, he picked up the receiver and dialed. "Hello?"

"Hello?" a tired-sounding female voice answered. 

"Miss Watson?" Osborn said, disguising his voice a bit. "This is the Hyde Acting Agency, and we have an opening for a female part in a TV movie. We were told that you were interested in an acting career."

Mary Jane positively bubbled. "My Gosh! I went to a few auditions but they told me to go out and get a job."

"Nevertheless, your name was recorded, as was the screen test, and we think you'd be perfect for this part. Can we set up an interview for later today?"

"Uh, actually, I'm on my way to a modeling job at the Technology Expo this afternoon."  She sounded crushed.  "I'm afraid I can't cancel at this short notice."

"Not a problem," assured Osborn. "We can reschedule it for tomorrow. If I can call you back then?"

"Certainly, I'll be home all day tomorrow."

"All right, until then. And congratulations."

"Wonderful. See you then. Good-bye."

Osborn hung up the phone and spoke to The Goblin aloud. "Now we do it your way. Just remember what finesse can get you."

Osborn spoke again, but this time it was Goblin who moved his mouth. "Now we get to have some fun. FINALLY!"

His face transforming into a ghoulish leer, The Green Goblin, minus his costume, left the telephone booth, and hurried back to his apartment.

*** 

Peter lowered his camera after taking a snapshot of yet another interesting new invention, and began looking around. There were only a few hundred people, but there seemed to be thousands of eggheads, scientific types and--dare he think the word?--geeks. Peter looked at them and felt like he was looking into a mirror of his past.

But despite the uncomfortable nostalgia, he was doing his best not to dance around the converted space inside Madison Square Garden, and tried to decide where to look next. He had just decided to head over to the car exhibit when his cell phone rang. He answered it. "Hello?"

"How's it going?" Stephen asked on the other end of the line.

"Is the council meeting over already?" Peter asked in surprise.

"No, but the Mayor decided to call a ten minute recess about half an hour ago. Most of the reporters here don't like me--some kind of jealousy thing, or maybe they don't like it that I ask better questions than they do--so I thought I'd call and see if you were having any fun over there."

"Stephen, I feel like a kid who accidentally got left behind in Toys-R-Us and I don't know where to start," Peter said happily.

"If you see anything you like, go ahead and buy it. If you can't figure out a way to get away with calling it a business expense on your tax returns, I'd be happy to pay for it."

Peter almost dropped the cell phone. "Are you serious?"

"When am I ever not?" Stephen asked mischievously. "Peter, I have a billion dollar trust-fund, and I hardly use any of it.  Those I consider friends I throw money at like they're spoiled children. Don't question me when I'm being generous."

Peter shook his head and actually wiped a tear away from his eye. "Stephen, I'm rarely one for mushy stuff, but if you ever need a kidney of something, I've got a couple of great ones with only one owner."

Stephen laughed. "I'm not into radioactive organs, thanks.  Just remember me if you see something you think I'd like."

"I've got just the thing. New model Palm Pilot. Comes with mini-fax, ultra-long-lasting lithium batteries, rechargeable solar cell, internal internet hookup, built-in e-mail, multilingual interface, voice recorder, day planner, a few games, a paint program, multi-logic database, waterproof, shockproof and extremely durable, with continual self-perpetuating memory circuits."

"Could you translate that into English?" Stephen asked in amusement.

"It's real shiny," Peter stated with a grin.

Stephen laughed heartily. "Oh yeah, you're having fun. Now this is the part where I have to play the straight man and insist that you finish your work first."

"Oh I've taken pictures of everything I wanted. All except the car. And I'm on my way there now."

"Don't buy the car, Pete. Moe would take that personally."

"Uh-huh, whatever you say."

"Peter, I can almost hear you drooling. Get off the phone before it electrocutes you."

"Uh-huh, whatever you say."

"Peter?"

Peter snapped out of his own private world. "Yes?"

"Hang up, then take pictures of the car, and have yourself a good time."

"It'll be hard, but I'll do my best."

There was a pause. "Council's going back into session. I have to go."

"Have fun," Peter said victoriously.

A chuckle that almost sounded shadowy came through the line.  "I give you all the fun jobs."

"That's why I keep you alive," Peter replied with a giggle.

Stephen sighed and hung up the phone.

Peter hefted his camera more comfortably onto his shoulder and walked toward the exhibit. There, slowly rotating on the stage, was a sleek yellow convertible, with solar panels on every flat surface. Sitting on the car was a model, her smile so wide it almost left her face, gesturing hugely at it like it was a game show prize.

Smiling, Peter headed closer, and then lifted his camera, and zoomed in even closer.

The car rotated a bit further…and Peter almost fell over.

For the beautiful redhead in the stunning skin-tight red silk dress, doing her best Vanna White impersonation...

…was none other than Mary Jane Watson.

Mary Jane Watson.  The girl next door. The woman with the eyes so bright it was a wonder the entire room wasn't tinted sapphire blue, and the brilliant pearly-white smile that made his knees weaken. The woman he was convinced was an angel descended from Heaven until age 14, when other more earthly impressions took over. The Venus from high school that he hadn't seen in almost four years.

_So go talk to her,_ said the analytical half his brain.

The other half of his brain made no response, lost in the dreamy haze that MJ always produced.

A light tingle of his spider-sense startled Peter out of his haze, and he dodged a bespectacled geek who was caught up in a tech manual and not watching where he was going.  Then he looked back at the car.

The entire room seemed to disappear around him, with only a halo around his beautiful angel glowing in his gaze.

Peter checked his watch. He had been officially back in love with Mary Jane for almost three seconds, and already only half his brain was working.

With a ridiculous goofy grin firmly attached to his face, he wandered casually over, feeling about as relaxed as Frankenstein's monster. "Can I take your picture for the school paper?" he quipped from behind her.  "I need one with a student in it."

Mary Jane spun at the sound of the voice and beamed. "Peter!" she almost squealed.

Peter nearly fainted at the sound of her voice.  It was just like he remembered.  She was just like he remembered.  Oh, my God…

MJ leaped off the dais and ran the final few feet between them. Just before she reached him however, her smile grew just a little wary, and she slowed.

Peter could have slapped himself. He suddenly remembered--last time they had spoken, she had told him she was madly in love with him, and he'd suggested that they just be friends. Thinking back, he suddenly hated himself. _FRIENDS?_ he raged at himself mentally. _Where the Hell did that come from?_

All this flitted through his mind instantly, and he gave MJ the happiest, most loving smile he could muster. He moved to hug her just as she moved to shake his hand. Peter immediately corrected, moving to shake her hand, as she changed too, moving to hug him. Again they both froze, and just looked at each other for a full two seconds.

In unison they both burst out laughing. "Let's just choose one," suggested Mary Jane, and the two embraced gratefully like the long lost friends they were.

***

The Green Goblin slid his mask into place and checked his armor once more. He collected his bag of explosives and looked them over. They all seemed functional and ready for war. Opening the wide windows of the apartment, he pushed a button on the inside of his glove, summoning his glider.

With a shrill whine of power, the sleek metal speed machine glided obediently before its master, the eyes of The Goblin face on the mask glowing fiercely.

Cackling gleefully, The Green Goblin jumped onto the board, fixed the light magnetic soles of his boots into the pedals, and stomped hard on the afterburners.

As the green demon sped out of the apartment, he turned toward Madison Square Garden. "Let's start this party with a bang!"

***

Peter and MJ looked each other over and smiled.

"So...," they started at the same moment, then burst out laughing.

"It's been a while," MJ observed.

Peter nodded.  "Four years."

"They've been good to you. You look good."

"You look amazing." Peter returned instantly, and she blushed.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"So, uh…what have you been doing with yourself?" Peter asked.

"Well, mostly scraping for work," MJ said.  "I can't get any jobs other than the odd photo shoot for commercials, sometimes stage modeling like these. It's not exactly the dream of Broadway, but it puts food on the table. Oh, just this afternoon I got an offer for an acting job in a TV movie." Her smile widened just a bit at the last part. "What about you? I noticed your work has switched papers about two years ago."

"Oh, you've been reading my work?"

"I have. By the way, who is Stephen Cranston?"

"My partner. Best reporter in the city, and that's no lie.  We met two years ago on a story we were both covering and he offered me a job."

"You're moving up in the world, Tiger," she said affectionately.  "I'm proud of you.  But I've gotta ask--is it true? Does Spiderman work with The Shadow now?"

Peter was still digesting the part about her being proud of him. "T-The Shadow is a myth. He sells papers, but he's not real."

MJ suddenly laughed ruefully. "Here we are, the first time we've seen each other in years, and all we can think of to talk about is work."

They regarded each other silently for a moment, with genuine smiles of caring. "Damn, it's good to see you, MJ," Peter said quietly.

MJ gave a sad smile, seemed to be debating something, and finally made the decision. "Peter, I've been thinking a lot about that day at Norman's funeral."

Peter winced. "Oh Lord, me too."

"And I think I figured out what happened."

Peter felt his spider-sense tingle. "You did?"

MJ looked torn. "Yes. I think...," she continued, not quite so confident now. "I think it was that you couldn't trust me. Or at least, not enough."

Peter was immediately at her side. "MJ, there is almost nobody I trust more than you." Why was his spider-sense still buzzing?

MJ held him tight, but kept whispering in his ear. "Just let me finish. I think I figured out why you turned me down that day. If I'm wrong, then I'll no doubt feel as ridiculous as I'll seem, but I think I know something about you, Mr. Parker."

Peter felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck, his spider-sense screaming now, but he almost didn't notice. He was totally lost in the sound of MJ's breath tickling his ear, lost in the sound of her voice, lost in the way she felt in his arms.

KRABOOOOM!!!

The roof of MSG exploded inward, and the two broke apart in shock.

Chaos reigned as people scattered in every direction from the falling debris. But the screams of fear were only the second most terrifying sound in the hall, for over the din of destruction arose a far more frightening sound.

Laughter. Hoarse, menacing, and constant, echoed throughout the hall from the sudden break in the ceiling.

Peter knew instantly that it was not his partner, for The Shadow's laugh was deeper and more resonating. But he still had a fair idea of who it was. One glance at MJ, and the paleness of her skin confirmed his suspicion. And he knew with absolute certainty an instant later, as the harbinger of pure evil and destruction himself shot through the hole in the ceiling, his glider's whine the screech of a bat from hell.

The Green Goblin was back from the dead!

Chapter Four

Stephen sat bored in the hard wooden chair as the police chief, on the left of the dais, droned on and on and on in an incredibly unfocused sentence moving from topic to topic without noticeably taking a breath. The effect was somewhat hypnotic, and everyone in the room was being lulled by it.

Suddenly he noticed his ring flashing.

Almost relieved that The Shadow was needed, he tried to think about how to get out of this room. He was in the middle of the row, in a stuffy room, with all the doors shut. There was no way to be inconspicuous.

Or maybe…

With a sinister grin, Stephen fixed a hard stare at the man on the right of the mayor.

Moments later, the man started to look uncomfortable, seconds later in pain, and suddenly started to sweat, clutching his stomach. He leaned over to the mayor and whispered something.

The mayor looked at him in alarm, and concern, suddenly interrupting the police chief. "Excuse me, but we may now take just a brief recess?"

The chief looked offended. "Now?"

The mayor nodded as the man on his left bolted from the room. "Ten minute recess, and everyone? Let's try to keep this one down to twenty minutes, please."

Stephen stood and headed for the door.

***

_Oh, dear Lord, how? HOW?_ Peter asked himself the question over and over as he dragged a terrified MJ Watson toward a pile of rubble, seeking shelter.

The Goblin was gliding on his board, moving low to the floor, scything through the crowds of terrified people, cackling gleefully at the fear he created.

A crowd of people ran through one of the doors and into a hallway outside the main arena.

The Goblin laughed and hit a button on his wrist. From the underside of the glider, two missiles detached and flew with a surgeon's accuracy into a row of chairs near the door.

BOOOM!

The chairs exploded, and as the dust cleared, it became apparent that The Goblin had blown a hole in the hallway wall, for through the hole could be seen the same people who had fled to the hallway though the door.

The Goblin flew through the hole and searched the terrified faces of the people he had cut off. Apparently dissatisfied, he spun and flew back into the main arena, searching the faces once again.

Peter's prime goal was to get MJ out of harm's way, so that he could do a fast fade and become Spiderman. _The Goblin's focusing on the downstairs doors,_ Peter thought. _He hasn't attacked the higher levels yet. It's easy to get her up there for me, but that would give away my identity. Oh, Lord, HOW?_

Suddenly, Peter saw his ticket upstairs--the fallen wreckage had created a pile, easy enough to climb, which lead to one of the higher levels. Hiding behind one of the tables, he gripped MJ's wrist reassuringly, and slowly pulled her toward the stairway of debris. Gesturing with his eyes, he told her to go ahead of him.

Her face as white as a sheet, MJ nodded.

Hearing the sound of Goblin's engines recede slightly, he pushed her. "Now!" he hissed. He felt his spider-sense scream, and looked back to see The Goblin calmly jump off his glider.

Straight into MJ's path.

Giving a gasp of sheer terror, he realized that MJ hadn't seen The Goblin, and ran desperately to save the woman he still loved.

***

Slipping and crawling awkwardly up the rubble, MJ made her way up to the higher doors. But when she got there, waiting for her, reclining calmly on the nearest row of chairs, as if watching a basketball game, was The Green Goblin himself.

"Hello, my dear," he cackled victoriously. "Long time, no see."

MJ did what any self respecting woman who had just come face to face, for the fourth time, with a nightmare she believed to be dead would have done. She screamed like a banshee.

"MARY JANE!" yelled Peter, who had just arrived at the top of the pile himself.

The Green Goblin jumped to his feet. "HA! Both of you! We came up Aces!" He turned to scream at the fleeing crowd. "SEE WHAT FINESSE WILL GET YOU?"

Laughing insanely, The Goblin delivered a punch to the jaw that sent Peter flying back toward the ground floor. Summoning his glider, he looked back at MJ. "Don't go too far, pretty. I have plans for you too."

That statement was enough to make Mary Jane Watson panic completely.

The Goblin leapt back aboard his glider and took off after Peter, who had just managed to get back on his feet.

***

Peter, stunned from the blow, felt his spider-sense scream just in time to tilt his body away from the incoming Goblin. It would have saved him from being decapitated as the rocket-powered punch came in.

But The Goblin was not throwing a punch.

A green armored fist closed around his throat and pulled him neatly off the floor.

Goblin hit the afterburners and smashed through one of the ground floor walls, into a hallway, through the next wall, and the next, and the next, until Peter couldn't even see, for all the dirt in his eyes, and he could hardly move, from the constant blows to the body, for The Goblin had shoved him through every crumbling wall. The glider itself had been badly dented, with parts and wires showing from underneath its torn armor. But The Goblin was too mad with rage to care.

Now outside the arena, streams of terrified people scattering at the sight of the emerging Gargoyle in flight, The Green Goblin tilted his board up, and soared it into the sky, doing a complete loop, smashing back through the roof of the arena.

Peter rallied, pulling back his feet and kicking the edge of the glider as hard as he possibly could, changing its course wildly, and throwing The Green Goblin to the side.

As Goblin eased his grip on Peter's collar to regain full control of his glider, Peter reached back and caught Goblin's shoulder, using the leverage to pull himself backwards over the glider's edge, to the green menace himself.

Now upright, and burning with rage himself, Peter planted his feet on the board, just behind Goblin's own, and balanced, throwing the hardest punches he could as The Goblin veered wildly.

Finally abandoning the reckless flight, Goblin jumped off, taking Peter with him.

The two combatants went through another wall, this one of brick and tile, using Goblin's armor and their own momentum to break their way through.

On the other side of the wall, they slowly and painfully picked themselves up and took quick stock of each other, and their surroundings. The room was medium sized and empty. It took a moment for Peter to recognize that this was the dressing room for visiting teams, and there was nothing of any importance in it…but Peter and The Green Goblin.

There was a moment of silence as the two fighters moved into combat stance.

"Why don't you people ever die?" Peter asked angrily.

"I tried that," The Goblin sneered. "Didn't like it.  You may like it better. I have comrades in Hell, Parker. Send them my regards."

And with that, the standoff was over, as The Goblin flew forward with an immense punch.

Peter pushed the blow aside and sent one, two, three kicks to The Goblin's side.

The Goblin caught the swinging leg on the third kick, and held it in place, giving Peter no room to dodge the flurry of punches that came from his impossibly fast right hook.

Peter finally caught the right hand and did his best to hold it away, as he hopped on one leg, the other still held by Goblin's left arm. With a swift punch to the jaw, he sent The Goblin reeling, but the menace still would not release the man's leg. 

The Goblin pulled his fist free of Peter's grip and grabbed the front of his shirt, bashing their heads together. The Goblin's armored face handled the blow better, as Peter fell to the floor, dazed and sniffing blood.

The Goblin laughed and dragged Peter by his now limp leg. In the center of the room, he swung Peter around and hurled him into the wall again.

The Goblin moved in for the kill, when suddenly all the lights went out. A sinister mocking laugh echoed from every corner.

Peter had never been happier to hear anything in his life.

The Goblin spun, looking for the source of the laugh.

**_"Get the civilians out,"_** whispered a voice that came from everywhere. **_"Go. NOW!"_**

Peter wanted to stay and fight, but his wounds were telling, and he needed to see if MJ was O.K., so he ran, pulling his mask from his pocket and throwing off his shirt as he did.

The Goblin moved to follow, when a punch that came literally from nowhere and hit his mask in the eyes. The force was almost insignificant, but he had been challenged, and Parker was almost dead anyway.

Pulling a fragmentation grenade from his bag, he gripped it tight in his hand and looked around.

A kick hit his stomach, and Goblin bent with the blow, swinging his hand out in front of him. He caught something that felt like cloth and pulled. There was a tearing sound, and as if from nowhere, a long scrap of dark cloth appeared in his hand.

"So," Goblin said to the room. "You do exist."

**_"Or am I just a figment of your imagination?"_** laughed the phantom as a karate chop came down on the back of Goblin's neck.

Goblin jumped into a spin kick that went a full 180 degrees. He felt something connect with his boot, and suddenly a man in a torn cloak and slouch hat appeared and went flying back through the wall behind him.

Goblin cackled himself and ran over to the prone form. "I don't think so. Imaginary men don't bleed. Dead ones do."

The Shadow hauled himself upward, breathing shallow, and looked Goblin square in the face.

Clutching his head, The Goblin screamed and fell to his knees, a screaming noise filling his mind. To his surprise, he felt Osborn scream silently in his mind as well. Out of reflex, he threw the grenade.

The Shadow rolled to the side and threw his heavy cloak over his face as it bounced, but when the concussive force knocked him flat, he still felt shrapnel dig itself into his chest, back and side.

The deafening noise in his head stopped, and Goblin got to his feet, only to be caught in the Shadow's glare again, though this time much weaker.

The Goblin fought his way toward his dark clad foe, reaching an ugly claw toward his face...

The Shadow, still on the floor, drew one of his automatics and started shooting.

The heavy bullets cut grooves in Goblin's armor, but did not penetrate. A stray bullet caught one of the eye lenses and shattered it as The Goblin shut his eyes at the last minute to protect his vision.

In that instant, The Shadow forced himself to stand and grabbed The Goblin's mask, twisting it a third of the way around.

Blinded behind the mask, The Goblin threw The Shadow off easily, then fought to get his mask straightened.

By the time he could see again, The Shadow was gone.

The Goblin let out a scream of pure rage.

***

"Are you O.K.?" Spiderman asked, quickly offering MJ a hand out of the pile of rubble on what was left of the display room floor.

"I'm fine," MJ answered. "Where's Peter?"

Was it his imagination, or did she almost laugh when she said that?  "He got out," he finally answered.  "He had no choice--he begged me to come in and find you."

MJ gave a clearly false look of understanding, but before he could ask her about it, his spider-sense tingled again, and he threw them both down.

The Goblin came back in again, shooting around on his glider, looking around in a rage. Spiderman felt his heart sink. Where was The Shadow? Had The Goblin..._Oh, dear Lord, HOW?_

"He's watching all the doors," MJ whispered to him.

Spiderman looked around and almost smiled. "Not all of them. Are the keys in that?"

MJ looked, and saw that he was pointing at the electric car. She closed her eyes. "Yep."

"Let's go." Spiderman gripped her around the waist and fired a webline toward the distant ceiling. He swung them over and dropped neatly into the car, he in the driver's seat, and she in the passenger. "Seatbelt," he advised as he turned the ignition.

The Goblin spun his glider around as he heard the hum of the electric motor. Snarling in rage, he tilted his glider down and hit the accelerator.

The glider bearing down on them, Spiderman spun the wheel of the car, and drove at breakneck speed toward the hole in the wall Goblin had made while using Peter as a battering ram. Scraping the walls, and bashing leftover debris out of the way, Spiderman sped toward the distant glimmer of daylight, smashing through hallways, offices and foyers as he went.

But the heavy whine of a jet engine confirmed his worst fears. The Goblin was following.

Speeding out onto the busy street, Spiderman felt his spider-sense scream, and reflexively spun the wheel to the left.

A streaking missile flew past, close enough that MJ's hair rippled, and exploded against a building across the street.

"Right!" screamed MJ, pointing at an upcoming turn.

Spiderman spun the wheel, and the car cut into the street, taking out a mailbox as it went wide.

Another scream from his spider-sense as The Goblin glider fired out a series of spinning disks, razor edges on all of them. The first one sunk into the trunk of the car, the second into the dashboard, the third into the back of Spiderman's seat, the fourth into the radio to create a shower of sparks, and the final shattering the windshield of a car going the other way.

"Left!" screamed MJ.

Spiderman spun the wheel again.

Another missile shot towards them, this one exploding so close that the car was pitched onto its front two wheels by the concussion.

The Goblin laughed wildly and drew another large round device from his bag, but when he hurled this one, it split into three pieces, and they each started to spin! The razor edged whirligigs, which Spiderman recognized as razorbats, spun toward the car, overtaking and circling for an attack, then coming back for another.

Spiderman gripped the wheel as the razorbats started to dive at the car's tires, then fired a ball of impact webbing at one, catching the spinning center with a lucky shot, and the bat exploded.

Spiderman tapped the breaks slightly, allowing the second to overshoot the tire, and spin smoothly under the car. It circled, came back up, and shot toward MJ.

She saw it coming, and ducked, still getting a cut on the shoulder, the razor easily slicing through her dress.

As she hissed in pain, Spiderman spun the wheel, cutting into another side street.

One of the razorbats cut the corner too late and shattered on the grill of an oncoming truck.

But the final razorbat swooped toward a front tire, and Spiderman knew that it would crash the car before he could get them both free.

He reached over and tightened MJ's seatbelt, knowing that they were about to crash, when suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

The bullet flew and shattered the final razorbat, inches before it struck the wheel.

The fragments caught the tire, but Spiderman realized the ripping of rubber was slow and they still had time.  He took a quick look to his left.

To his joy, Moe's cab was coming alongside, with The Shadow in the backseat, leaning out the window with an automatic in hand. 

Throwing the cab's side door open, The Shadow moved across to the other side of the seat, and started shooting up at The Green Goblin's glider, his bullets finding the torn areas of the armored jet.

Spiderman maneuvered the car over closer to the cab, and leaned over to open MJ's door.

MJ understood instantly and prepared to jump. The distance between the cars was only a few feet, but the speeds were intense. The electric car was beginning to waver as the steering began to falter.

"**_Take my hand,_**" a deep voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time commanded inside her ears.

Taking a deep breath, and closing her eyes, she jumped out of the car, toward the man in black, and felt his hand get a strong grip on her wrist.

Spiderman whooped with joy as The Shadow pulled MJ into the cab.

The Shadow leaned out the opposite window, and began firing again.

"Come ON!" MJ yelled over to Spiderman.

Spiderman didn't need further prompting and prepared to jump. Just then, his spider-sense screamed, and he leaped, higher than he intended, as the final missile streaked into the car, blasting it to smithereens.

Instantly, he realized he'd overshot the cab and quickly caught the roof with a webline to correct his course.

A second later, Spiderman landed on the roof and lowered himself into the cab through the sunroof.

The Shadow adjusted his aim and started firing into the torn holes that revealed the parts of a jet engine.

A lucky shot caught the intake valve, and The Goblin felt the lift of his glider start to give out.

_We can't survive a crash at this speed. The Glider can be repaired; we can do this again. Live today; fight tomorrow! _Osborn said in Goblin's head, and even the masked maniac knew he was right.

"BACK TO FINESSE THEN!" screamed Goblin after the retreating cab, and slowly pulled back his glider, allowing the fleeing cab to escape.

Inside the cab, everyone gave a collective sigh of relief.

**_"Are you two all right?"_** The Shadow asked.

"I have no feeling from the hair down, and she has a cut on her shoulder, but we're O.K.," Spiderman reported. "Shadow, this is Mary Jane Watson."

The Shadow shook her hand. **_"Miss Watson."_**

MJ looked unnerved at the sound of his voice--even in these tight quarters, it seemed to echo from all around--but returned the handshake. When she looked down at her hand though, she saw that it was covered in blood.

Spiderman noticed too. "Hey, partner? Are YOU all right?"

The Shadow did not answer; he just passed out and collapsed against the side of the cab.

Spiderman reached over MJ to take his pulse, the pulled back in horror as he saw his partner's arm, chest and side. "MOE! A HOSPITAL! NOW!"

"You know he'll refuse," Moe called back from the driver's seat.

"Moe, he has shrapnel in his side and at least one major artery's been clipped!  If we don't get him to a surgeon immediately, he's dead!"

Moe bit his lip, and then floored the accelerator, giving MJ a sharp glare in the rear-view mirror.

MJ understood at once. "You can trust me...Peter."

Both the New York cabbie and the masked arachnid vigilante stared at the red haired girl in complete shock.

Chapter Five

The trauma surgeon checked Stephen's vitals and flicked a light into his eyes just to make sure he wasn't reading them wrong.  "I can't believe how well he came through the surgery," he told Peter and MJ.  "He had a collapsed lung, and that chest wound came within millimeters of his aorta.  He is damned lucky to be alive, much less doing this well.  But his vitals have stabilized and he's breathing on his own.  He's doing so much better that the chest tube we put in to reinflate his lung was actually interfering more than helping, so we took it out.  If all goes well, he could be out of here in a few days.  Right now, though, he needs to rest."  He looked over at the pair.  "That looked like quite an explosion on TV.  Are you two all right?"

Peter nodded.  "It was.  I'm fine, though.  MJ?"

MJ flexed her shoulder, testing the bandage. "Just a little sore.  Thanks, doctor. We'll stay here."

The doctor nodded and left the recovery bay. The surgery had indeed been swift, and had gone surprisingly well. Stephen was now in recovery, still unconscious, and looked like Hell.  But he was alive.

Peter had quite a few bandages himself, but was more sore than wounded. The numerous cuts would heal quickly, and the pain only reminded him he was alive. But that was secondary in his mind now. He looked solemnly at the bruised and bloody face of his partner, watching for some sign of life.  Something deep inside Stephen was obviously working, his subconscious survival instincts trying to redirect his vast mental energies to the injured areas of his body to keep him alive, but Peter saw nothing more than that.  And it unnerved him.

"Hey," MJ said quietly, taking his hand reassuringly. "He's going to be all right."

Peter smiled thankfully at her and sat down. "I know. Just brings back some memories. Goblin attacks, and we sit in a hospital room together, waiting for someone to wake up."

MJ nodded. "Does he have any family? Anyone we should contact?"

Peter shook his head. "Just his uncle, who is out of town at the moment."

MJ gave an uneasy look. "Does his uncle know about...about _him_?"

That got a laugh from Peter. "His uncle used to _be_ him."

MJ looked at Stephen in surprise. "Really? That explains how the stories go back so far. How about you? When did this start?"

Peter was willing to fill in the blanks--he'd wanted to tell her this story for years. "Do you remember years ago in senior year, that field trip to Columbia University? The spider exhibit? The experimental spiders?"

MJ nodded, her eyes widening.

"And you said that there were 14 spiders where there should have been 15?"

"Get out," whispered MJ in awe, not believing it.

"The fifteenth spider was having radiation experiments done on it. Afterward I guess it escaped, and the spider bit me. The next day I'm climbing walls."

"All the powers come from that?"

"All except the webbing. I did that on my own. I built some high compression webbing shooters. Remind me to show you some time."

"Peter," MJ said in amazement. "I...I'm in awe. I never would have guessed."

Peter looked hard at MJ. "You seemed to guess pretty accurately back in the cab."

MJ looked embarrassed. "Yeah well, I sort of figured it out that day at the funeral. When you turned me down, I suddenly realized you were trying to protect me. Just so you know, that was a ridiculous idea. I would have understood."

Peter sighed hard. "I know you would have understood, but think for a second, MJ. You were almost killed three times _before _you knew! I couldn't allow that to happen again. I loved you too much to risk your life."

MJ suddenly looked angry. "So you decided to give me the 'Let's just be friends' speech? Peter, that was almost word for word the same thing I told Harry three days before the funeral!"

Peter winced and rubbed his eyes. "O.K., thinking back it was probably the worst choice of words I could have made, but you, Aunt May, Harry, Uncle Ben are all people I cared about, and all of you paid some price for knowing me."

MJ thought about it for a second, and nodded. "O.K., you have a point. And I forgive you for lying to me. But for future reference, don't keep me from the truth from now on, even if you think it'll hurt me. If I'm going to get killed, I want to know why. And I'd like you to have as many people as you could trust with your secrets."

Peter nodded and smiled. The look they shared repaired years of silence and hidden truths. Suddenly he burst out laughing, and practically jumped out of the chair. "You have no idea how great it is to finally be honest with you." Then Peter looked hard at her again. "Now I think it's time you told me some truths. For starters, just off the top of my head: How the Hell did you figure it out?"

MJ looked shy all of a sudden. "Well, it was a lot of little things, like you vanishing just before Spiderman arrived, like Spiderman knowing my name before I even met him, like how you have such great pictures of him, but mostly it was..."

"What?" Peter asked insistently, though he was starting to guess.

"It was the way you kissed me," MJ blurted.

Forgotten on the bed, Stephen suddenly burst out laughing, obviously listening in.

MJ turned red, and Peter jumped up, marched over to the bed, and twisted Stephen's ear viciously. "This is the second time I've tried to have a private conversation with this woman in a hospital room. And now for the second time I've found the patient listening in, feigning sleep."

"So go get your own room," Stephen laughed on the bed. Then, he gave a glance at MJ and chose his next words carefully. "Hello. I'm Stephen Cranston."

"Hi. I'm MJ," Mary Jane answered.

Stephen shifted his wary gaze to Peter. "Why am I _in a hospital_?"

Peter shifted his feet under his partner's gaze. "You were badly, badly wounded. There was some pretty serious arterial damage, and a collapsed lung. You needed surgery. Now you're listed as 'under observation'."

Stephen nodded and closed his eyes, an expression of pain on his face, as he began to mentally spin a convincing cover story. "Did some wreckage from that explosion hit me?"

"She knows," Peter said simply.

The expression of pain vanished immediately from Stephen's face, and his eyes opened, focused and alert. He pulled himself upright despite the pain and looked at MJ carefully. "She knows? Both of us?"

MJ nodded enthusiastically.

"I guess we have to kill her then," Stephen said bluntly.

The enthusiasm drained instantly from her face. Clearly she was not at all sure he didn't mean it.

Peter drew a sharp breath. Neither was he. "I trust her."

Stephen looked at Peter, saw the sincerity, and turned his gaze back at MJ. "That's good for you. But can I trust her too?"

"Absolutely," MJ said without hesitation.

Stephen was silent for a long moment. "I could, of course, ask you to forget about this."

MJ shook her head.  "I've spent four years pretending to forget. There's no way it's going to happen."

Stephen's gaze didn't waver in the slightest. "It could."

Peter gripped Stephen's arm hard. "NO!"

Stephen blinked, then turned back to Peter. "No?"

Peter didn't let up on his grip at all. "NO! Goblin knows who I am. And he knows how I feel about Mary Jane. Like it or not, she's up to her neck in this already. Playing with her memory won't change that. And if you so much as try it, you will never leave this hospital."

Stephen was mildly surprised at his vehemence. He looked back at MJ. "That's the most riled I've ever seen him get. It must have been some kiss."

MJ blushed again, but couldn't help but nod.

Stephen gave her a serious look. "Miss Watson, you have just been brought into a very small group. There are now exactly six people on this planet who know both of our secrets. One of them may not even be alive anymore. These are secrets that men have killed to find out, and men have died keeping. If there is any doubt in your mind that you cannot do the same, tell me now, and you will not remember any of this."

MJ looked awed, suddenly realizing the scope of what she had been brought into. But she knew she couldn't turn back now. "You can trust me."

Stephen took a moment to size up her answer, trying to ascertain just how honest it was. A nod from Peter helped him to make up his mind. "O.K., then," he smiled.

MJ smiled back, feeling as if she'd just passed a tough audition.

Stephen turned to Peter. "When can I get out?"

Peter gave an awkward smile.  He already knew Stephen wouldn't like the answer.  "The doctors say you'll be O.K., but they want to keep you here for a few days."

Stephen laughed a low sinister laugh that made MJ shudder. "Oh, yeah, that's really going to happen. Peter, go find whichever doctor signs the release forms, and tell him that I need to talk to him. Miss Watson, you are going with him. If The Goblin does indeed intend to use you as bait, then you'll need a guard at all times, and only Peter can properly fit the bill. You two are going to have to stick together like glue for a while."

Peter heard this, and couldn't help the huge grin that spread across his face.

Stephen noticed and rolled his eyes. "Go."

Mary Jane headed for the door.

Peter stayed for a moment to give Stephen a look of gratitude. "Thanks for not frying her memory." The grin of gratitude doubled. "And thanks for making me her bodyguard."

Stephen laughed, winced in pain, and shook his head. "I give you all the fun jobs."

"That's why I keep you alive."  He turned to head for the door.

Stephen caught his arm. "One more thing. Give her the ring. She's part of the family now."

Peter gave his partner a solemn smile, and headed out after Mary Jane.

***

"MJ!" Peter called.

The redhead turned to look at him. "What kept you?" she said good-naturedly.

"I had to get you this," Peter grinned.

Mary Jane couldn't control the way her jaw dropped when Peter suddenly pulled out a silver ring with the biggest red-orange rock she had ever seen.  "You _are_ moving up in the world," she gasped.

Peter laughed and slipped it onto her hand, fighting the urge to do so on one knee. "It's a Girasol…a fire opal. Don't ever take it off." He discreetly showed his ring.

MJ looked at it, then back at hers. "Is this a…"

Peter nodded. "You're one of us now."

"Us?"  MJ was once again struck by what she had gotten into. "How many of us are there?"

"Only _he_ knows," Peter told her quietly as they walked. "When an agent needs something, they will say, 'The sun is shining.' You will answer them, 'But the ice is slippery.' Then you do what they tell you. Other than that you live as normal, like this never happened."

"Assuming I live through The Goblin."

"Hey, I'm a pretty good bodyguard."

She gave him a wry grin.  "Except when I left the room and you took half a minute to catch up."

Peter nodded, nailed.  "Except for that."

She laughed.  "Where'd the code words come from?"

"From him. Don't ask me where he came up with them.  I think they're some kind of espionage code phrase from World War I."  Peter gestured for quiet when they reached the central ICU station. "Hey, Doc?"

The trauma surgeon who'd operated on Stephen looked up. "Yes?"

Peter gestured back toward Stephen's recovery bay.  "Mr. Cranston wants to talk to you about an early release."

The doctor laughed and got up. "Sure. Everyone wants out before the next meal. I'll see about him."

"Be my guest," Peter said graciously.

Peter fought off the grin as the doctor passed him. MJ gave him a questioning look.

"I'm just wondering how long this'll take," he whispered.  "Stephen despises hospitals."  Then he noticed that he noticed the way she kept fingering her girasol ring. "If you like, I could try and find a smaller ring for you."

"Uh, no."  She blushed slightly.  "I was just thinking that when you pulled that ring out of your pocket, I honestly thought you were going to propose."

Peter gave a slightly hysterical chuckle. Then an unbelievable thought struck him. "What would you have said?"

Before MJ could answer, they reached the room. 

"MJ?" Peter asked persistently.

"Later," she whispered back.

The doctor gave them an annoyed look, then turned his attention to Stephen.  "Well, Mr. Cranston, I understand you wanted to see me?" he said. 

"Yes," Stephen said, his tone strong and crisp and his expression confident.  "You can sign the release forms and let me out of here."

The doctor chuckled slightly.  "Now, I understand you're feeling better, but you've just come out of major surgery. You need to rest up and heal properly. Now I know it's a standard joke that everybody hates hospital food…but…"

MJ looked in confusion at the doctor as he started to slow down, his eyes seemingly locked in a staring contest with Stephen. Only then did she notice the sheer intensity of Cranston's glare. She took an unnerved step back and bumped into Peter. "Is that normal?" she whispered to him over her shoulder.

Peter was looking at his watch. "Fifteen seconds. Yeah, that's about normal. This is the fun part.  Just watch."

The doctor was staring dumbly like a zombie. MJ was absolutely chilled. The feeling became worse when she looked back at Stephen; his eyes had actually changed color, from blue-green to burning black. In fact, the whole room was dimmer…swallowed in shadow.

**_"I am very well healed,"_** Stephen said in a sinister voice to the doctor.

"But you have healed very well," the doctor said, changing his mind.

**_"A tribute to the skill of you and your staff."_**

"Just shows what a first-class level one trauma center can do," the doctor strutted.

**_"And you need the bed space."_**

"Besides, we need the bed space.  We have sick people to take care of. I don't see how we can waste one on somebody healthy."

**_"You'll sign the release forms immediately."_**

"I'll have your release forms done in no time."

Stephen turned to Peter and a trembling MJ. "Would either of you like to see me make him roll over?" he said, a confident yet sinister smile on his face.

Peter snorted a laugh. "As entertaining as the possibility is, I think you're frightening the new blood."

Stephen turned his gaze on MJ. "Am I frightening you?"

MJ shook her head vigorously.

Stephen laughed, an unnerving, echoing laugh that sent chills down MJ's spine. "Yes, I am." He turned back to the doctor. **_"You can go get the papers now."_**

The doctor turned to head out of the room. "I'll get started on the paperwork.  Just relax, and a nurse will be in here in a moment to unhook all the wires and tubes."

"**_Thank you._**"  The spell was broken, and the imposing feeling dropped.

The doctor shook his head.  Wow, what a weird feeling.  He started to second-guess himself, but then remembered that good trauma surgeons never do such a thing, and left to start the release forms.

Stephen, meanwhile, had already begun unhooking some of the monitoring wires.  "Go wait for me in the car," he said to the pair of agents.

Peter and MJ started to go.

"Miss Watson?"

MJ turned back around.

Stephen looked thoughtful.  "How much do you know about The Green Goblin?"

She cringed, because she knew what she thought was way too much already.  "Only that he's a maniac with a huge arsenal that has taken a rather large interest in me."

"Because he knows I'm Spiderman," Peter interjected. "So he linked us and used you as bait."

"He had an interest in her before he found that out, Peter," Stephen said.

Peter blanched. "How do you know that?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "How do I know?"

Peter nodded. "Forget I asked."

MJ frowned. "What do you mean? Do I have a super _villain_ stalker too?"

"You do now." Stephen looked over at his partner. "Peter, she has to know everything."

"What difference would that make?" Peter said, worried for MJ.

"All the difference in the world," Mary Jane said firmly. "Peter, no more secrets. I want to know everything."

"But not here," Stephen interrupted. "Shrevnitz will be here any minute.  I'll meet you outside."

The pair nodded and headed out of the room.

In the elevator on the way downstairs, MJ whispered furiously to Peter. "He is dangerous. And creepy."

"Yeah, he is," Peter acknowledged. "But he's on my side. So you learn to like him."

MJ remembered that glare and that unnerving laugh. "Maybe. But still…"

"Wondering what you've gotten yourself into, aren't you?" Peter smiled.

"Not so much what as _how_. How did I get into this?"

"I believe you were trying to put food on the table," Peter answered.

MJ nodded wearily. "If I ever get the urge to do that again, feel free to give me a swift kick."

Chapter Six

Osborn kicked himself as he pulled apart another toolbox. He was leaving an all too obvious trail, knocking over one repair shop after another looking for the right tools. Most of them had been empty, but the fact was that he had been to over four hardware stores and repair shops, looking for the right tools to fix the glider. Aside from that was the fact that The Goblin had been on a rampage ever since they had made it back to the apartment.

_"Spider's made some friends,"_ The Goblin hissed inside his mind.

"They got lucky. That cloaked lunatic is a good marksman. We left him out of the equation. That was the only mistake we made," Osborn whispered aloud as he hunted through his fifth hardware store in the past two hours.

_"I don't need you to tell me that. I know what went wrong. In any case, The Shadow is not a problem. He is weak, and probably dead by now if that shrapnel did as much damage as I think it did. What is keeping you from finding that stupid soldering iron?"_

"I need a very specific one. The damage to the glider is very subtle. It's a sturdy machine, but the inner workings are delicate."

_"SHUT UP! Just find it. Oh, I am mad now. The last thing I need is a weakling inside my head."_

Osborn rallied at the insult from his other half. "I'm no weaker than you are," he hissed aloud.

The Goblin cackled silently at this. _"You're a pathetic shell, Osborn. The fact that you use my hands and voice does not make you strong. Never forget who's in charge."_ His authority defended, The Goblin felt his rage grow. _"I need to bash something. I need to kill something fast! Find the solder, then fix the glider, and then I'm off on the proverbial killing spree!"_

Osborn was sickened at the bloodthirsty statement. Fortunately, he found something to distract the monster's attention. "Here it is!" he declared, holding up the soldering iron.

"Who are you?" demanded a voice.

Osborn spun, and saw a sleepy looking guard walk in, his hand on his nightstick.

Osborn felt his face twist in The Goblin's evil leer. "Hey," he heard The Goblin say with his voice. "You, sir, are just what I needed."

Osborn took control of his voice again. "No! Please! Don't do this!"

"You shut up!" Goblin shouted, using his voice again. He started to walk toward the guard.

The guard drew his nightstick as Osborn came closer. The Goblin backhanded the guard through the shop window.

The guard smashed out into the empty street and groaned as he passed out.

Osborn leaped out the window, and landed into a goblin crouch.

With a hoarse cruel laugh, he reached for the sleeping guard's neck. He had almost reached him, when suddenly he felt Osborn fight his control over their hand!

_"I can't let you do that! He's beaten!"_ Osborn shouted silently in his head.

The Goblin, for that was who was in control, looked murderously at the shaking hand, and tried to force it forward. But still Osborn rebelled, and the hand froze mid-reach.

"He's seen us! He could identify us!" The Goblin screeched at the hand.

Osborn rallied every ounce of his control, and fought the movements of his hideous alter ego. _"NO!"_

The Goblin screeched in rage, and finally conquered his betraying limb. The outstretched hand flew toward the guard.

_"NO!"_ sobbed Osborn silently, as The Goblin cackled victoriously.

"This is who I am!" The Goblin's voice shouted at the unconscious guard in his grip.

***

"The Green Goblin. Also known as Norman Osborn," Stephen declared.

"Norman?" MJ blurted in shock. "That explains so much about his personality!"

"How _did_ you figure it out?" Peter asked curiously.

The trio was in Moe's cab heading down Broadway. MJ sat in the middle, with the two vigilantes on either side watching continuously for trouble on either side of the cab.

"One of my agents in Quest Aerospace told me that they were planning to takeover OsCorp, but Osborn himself was out because of it," Stephen explained. "An agent in OsCorp Research and Development told me that glider he used was a stolen prototype. The board of directors was the ones killed in the first attack. These are things that nobody else knows, because Goblin killed everyone who knew before the announcement was made."

MJ was impressed. "How many agents do you have in mega-corporations?"

"Plenty," Stephen told her. "You think you come from a billionaire family without having some inside informants?"

"Billionaire?" MJ was awed. "And you work for a newspaper and ride in a cab?"

"I need the health insurance. A guy who moonlights as a crime fighter needs health insurance."

MJ nodded like that made perfect sense. "I'm surprised that you haven't been pulled in for insider trading."

"I have people in the IRS who make sure that doesn't happen."

"You have people who work for you in the IRS?" Peter said disbelievingly. He had not heard this before.

"You would be amazed how many. I have to save the tax men from murder attempts all the time."

Everyone in the cab laughed hilariously.

MJ was the first to recover. "Were you two working together then?"

Peter shook his head. "Not for another two years." He looked over to Stephen. "Come to think of it, where were you back then?"

"Where?" Stephen asked incredulously. "I couldn't keep up. Goblin only came out five times back then and the every attack was less than four minutes long. He flew; I drove. I just never got there in time till the fight at the Queensboro Bridge."

Peter gave him an incredulous look.  "You were there? You could have helped."

"Well, I would have, but I wasn't sure what side you were on. I knew you had saved people, but then there were the stories in the Bugle, so I figured that it would be a good idea to let you and Goblin go at it until I knew which was the good guy."

Peter couldn't take it. "What on earth made you think that Goblin could possibly be one of the good guys?"

"The OsCorp Board of directors were thoroughly involved in the underworld. Hell, so were half the guys at Quest.  I think the only honest directors at either company worked for me.  Most of the rest of them got their careers by doing favors to organized crime. I knew that Osborn probably knew this. It was possible that he merely decided to cut his losses when he was fired, and decided to do his own act of vigilantism. Granted, he was a tad more militant with his crime fighting than most, but I'd seen worse and wasn't about to fault him for going after such a group of notorious snakes. As for fighting Spiderman, well, he was attacking those board members, but he didn't strike you until you dove out of the sky and threw the first punch. So I wasn't sure what side either of you were on until his attacks of private homes--your aunt's house, then Miss Watson's kidnapping so that he could secure your attention at the bridge."

"So again, why didn't you help out at the bridge if you knew?" Peter pressed.

"Well first off, his strength was too immense for me but not for you." Stephen's eyes developed a twinkle.  "Secondly, I did help. Why do you think all those people started throwing things at him?"

Peter sat back, completely stunned.

MJ, however, was looking at Moe. "You look familiar."

"He should," Stephen interrupted. "He gave you a lift home that night."

"Free of charge." MJ remembered, nodding.

"And that was a big fare I gave up," Moe added.  "Plus the traffic was terrible, and I had a rotten view of the whole thing.  I still didn't believe there was such a thing as a 'Spiderman' until I finally met him a couple of years later."

"So that's how you got home that night," Peter said.

"I thought it was odd that I got out of there so easily," MJ mused.  Suddenly, she realized something and stared at Stephen. "And I got offered a decent job soon after. Which got me something to put on my resume. You did that, didn't you?"

Stephen nodded. "I wanted to keep an eye on you. After Goblin's comment about how Spiderman could choose between the woman he loved or a tram full of children, I figured that you could still be in danger. So I looked after you for a while, made sure that you could make ends meet, and my people kept an eye on you." He winced with pain and took a breath to steady himself and get his strength back again. "After the fight at the bridge, I had one of my people perform the autopsy on Osborn, only it turned out not to be an autopsy.  They found that whatever he had done to himself to gain the strength had mutated him, so that the damage inflicted was not fatal. He had actually shut down all his bodily functions while the enhancements healed him. For all intents and purposes, he looked and acted dead, but was really only in a very deep coma. I didn't want to pump bullets into a temporary corpse, so I had a heart-to-heart talk with Osborn's psyche while he was in his coma and then turned him loose, after a few post-mortem surgeries to change his appearance. In effect, Osborn lived, but The Green Goblin was dead. I collected the Goblin costume and the Goblin gear from the ruins on Roosevelt Island and had it all buried in place of the body, then used my best hypnotic persuasion to block all memory of The Goblin and all of you from his mind. I guess it somehow unblocked itself. And here we are."

Peter frowned. "Are you saying that we can't kill him?"

"I'm saying that it will be very hard to kill him, and if we do, we have to make sure he stays dead, and doesn't have any ideas about not being dead in the future."

MJ sat back, stunned, then suddenly regained her composure. "What kind of maniac are you?" she demanded of Stephen.

For the second time that day, everyone in the cab just started at the redhead.

"You tricked us, you played us, and you nearly got us killed!" MJ continued, on the warpath now. "You shamelessly manipulated Peter, me, Goblin, Osborn, his family, the news media and eventually all the people of New York City! What the Hell have you got to say for yourself?"

Stephen didn't even blink. "We're here."

MJ looked up, and noticed that the cab had indeed pulled to a stop. When she looked outside, she saw to her astonishment that they were in fact outside her building.

"Your neighbor has something for you. The apartment across from yours. Peter, you go with her. Collect it, then come back here," Stephen ordered.

Still fuming, MJ got out of the car.  Peter followed her.

"Oh--Miss Watson?" Stephen called after them.

MJ looked back.

"There is no 'Hyde Acting Association.' Goblin was trying to find out where you were. So there's no audition tomorrow. Sorry."

MJ's face crumpled, then turned furious again. Throwing a withering look at Stephen, she turned on her heel and marched toward her building.

The cabbie openly gaped at the small war of words.

Peter threw Stephen a fierce look.

Stephen, in the back seat, had an eyebrow raised.

Peter took a deep breath and shook his head, then took off to keep up with the fiery redhead.

"Kind of brutal, weren't you?" Moe asked.

"Et Tu, Brute?" Stephen shot back. "She has to take this seriously. Quite frankly, her life depends on Peter and me. The very methods that she finds so reprehensible are the same methods that are going to keep her breathing."

"You're preaching to the choir, boss," Moe reassured.  "She doesn't understand how we do things. Most people don't. But still, I like her, boss.  She has spirit."

"She isn't the stereotypical damsel in distress, I'll grant you," Stephen replied. "I can see what Peter sees in her."

"You say that like it's a problem," Moe commented.

Stephen settled back into his seat tiredly, his expression reflecting sadness. "In this business, Shrevvy, it's _always _a problem."

***

"How did he know about the call? I didn't tell anyone about that!" She snapped at Peter, all the while storming up the stairs.

"He knows," Peter answered calmly. "He always does."

"What, has he got a bug on my phone or a hidden camera?  Maybe he's an invisible peeping tom or something…"

"He's psychic," Peter interrupted.

MJ stopped and looked at him oddly.

"Really.  That's the honest-to-God truth.  He can read your mind.  Normally, he doesn't, but when he needs a leg up on a situation, he will."

MJ snorted.  "What, is he an ethical psychic?"

"No, he's a projective psychic.  He normally doesn't read minds, he writes to them.  That's how he disappears, that's how he got the doctor to let him go, that's how he makes that voice seem to echo everywhere, and that's how he gets his way.  He is not a man you say 'no' to, and he is not a man who takes being defied lightly."

"Tell me about it," MJ sighed ruefully. "I don't think your partner likes me."

"Well, you didn't get too many points for the 'What kind of maniac are you?' line, but still, I think he'll come around. It doesn't matter. You are one of us, and Stephen is nothing if not loyal to his agents. We won't let anything happen to you. _I _won't let anything happen to you. Stephen has saved my life more times than I can count, so if he doesn't like you, then it'll be a real shame for me when I say, 'Bye bye Stephen!'"

The two laughed. MJ knocked on the apartment door across the hall from her own.

"You are the kind of girl that any man with half a brain and one eye open would love," Peter finished.  "Trust me on that."

"Thanks, I think."

The door opened. "MJ, what can I do for you?" said the old lady kindly.

"I was told you had something for me," MJ queried politely.

The look on the old woman's face turned confused. "Sorry, dear, but I don't know what you mean."

MJ threw Peter a confused look.

"The sun is shining," Peter said, flashing his ring.

"But the ice is slippery," answered the old woman, instantly showing her own ring. "Welcome to the family, Mary. I'll get the bag."

The door closed, and shuffling sounds were heard inside.

"Does he always have to do things his way?" MJ asked Peter.

Peter nodded. "One does not rule a secret society like this one without establishing some procedures."

The door opened. The old woman handed MJ a large travel bag. "Anything else?"

"We were never here," Peter told her.

The old woman nodded and shut the door.

***

MJ sat back in the cab and opened the bag. She turned to Stephen in shock. "These are my clothes!"

Stephen nodded. "And your makeup kit, your toothbrush, your jewelry, and your favorite book."

"You went through her room?" Peter asked in shock.

"No. My agent next door to her did that. I merely gave the order and supplied the key."

"When did you have time to do that?" Peter asked.

"This morning during our poorly named day off."

"But Goblin hadn't even attacked then! How did you know she'd need it?"

"Exactly 38 hours ago, there was an explosion on the hill at the cemetery. The Osborn family crypt. Report said gas main rupture, ignited during the storm."

"Is that what they call pumpkin bomb explosions these days?" Peter quipped in understanding.

"So you knew about Osborn?" MJ demanded indignantly.

"Not exactly." Stephen again took a deep breath, trying to hold back the pain that was threatening to overwhelm his brain.  The last thing he needed right now was to be unable to think clearly. "Because there _was _a gas main running under that crypt--it was used to power the maintenance shed behind the hill. They had to shut it off to put the fire out. It was probably nothing at all. But why take the chance? If it was The Goblin, chances were he'd come after Peter _again_, and use you as bait, _again_."  He took another breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled.  "By the way, I gotta ask--do you really like reading _Pride and Prejudice_ over and over?"

MJ turned red. "How the Hell do you know that? How do you know all of that stuff?"

"How do I know?" Stephen laughed a low menacing chuckle that seemed to fill the entire cab and follow it on the wind.

The Shadow knew!

Chapter Seven

Osborn worked feverishly, the voice in his head not giving him a moment's break.

_"Come on, you useless waste of brain cells,"_ the voice raged. _"No, don't weld there, higher! There! Now, reinforce the seal. Faster, you nitwit, I have a city to raze."_

Suddenly, Osborn was fed up. "I am sick of your insults, I am sick of your constant complaints, I am sick of your senseless violence and I'm sick of you!" he suddenly shouted, throwing the tools aside to the farthest corner of the room.

The Goblin snarled and exerted his control, forcing the physical body to its knees. _"Let's not forget who's in charge here, Osborn. You are a pathetic washout who drank too much, lost everything he had, and drove his son away. If fate had not given you me, you would have no doubt killed yourself years ago, or at the very least declared bankruptcy. Now you stand on the verge of ruling the world. So if you have an attack of conscience, let me take over, and you can go cower in the corner."_

By this time, Osborn had crawled across the room to the tools, and his hands reached out to take them. Osborn felt like the most controlled slave in existence, his very will was something to be fought over, and he had lost every time he fought. How could he win?

***

"So, how can we win?" Peter asked.

"There are two people sharing his mind," Stephen said, thinking. "One of them is Goblin, the other is Norman. Even when I psychically knocked him back during the fight earlier, I could sense the struggle between them. Norman is a prisoner inside his own head. They both have the will to act, but Goblin keeps forcing his control of their body."

"Are you telling me that Norman can fight his other half?" MJ asked in surprise.

Stephen nodded.  "That's how I did it last time. I made sure that the control stayed with Osborn."

"Can you do it again?" Peter asked.

"It will be tricky. The first time it failed, I think, because Norman could not remember anything.  I wiped out too much of his memory.  But if I leave his memory intact this time and just amplify his control over Goblin, then maybe Dr Jeckal can handle Mr. Hyde. But that will take time. I definitely couldn't do it in the middle of a fight."

"And definitely not right now," Moe interjected.

"No," Stephen agreed.  "We need to take him down first."

"And that'll be so easy," Peter said.

"In the meantime, we can't spend the entire night in this taxi. Both of your apartments are unsafe--Goblin will know where they are."

"Which means yours is just as unsafe," Peter observed, "because chances are he's already looked up who Peter Parker's writing partner is."

"We can't stay at a hotel," MJ said, thinking out loud. "That would put innocent people at risk."

"What about the Jonas building?" Peter suggested.

"Sounds good," Stephen said. "Shrevvy, the Jonas building, please?"

***

"So, what exactly is this place?" MJ asked. "I didn't see a sign outside."

"This building is a front," Peter explained. "It's used as a covert meeting place for agents."

"I own the whole building, and there's a small suite upstairs," Stephen added, nodding toward the building. "You can stay here till this thing with Goblin is over."

"One or both of us will have to stick around too," Peter told Stephen quietly.

"There's a guest room. We'll take shifts keeping watch," Stephen agreed.

"And I'll go first," Peter stated, "because you look like Hell.  You need to get some rest."

Stephen rubbed his eyes and took another deep breath, trying to stem the pain and weakness and keep his brain focused for just a few more minutes.  "I've felt worse," he agreed, "though I'll be damned if I can remember when.  Take her upstairs and keep an eye on her.  I'm going to my office for a few hours.  Page me if you need me."

Peter offered MJ a hand out of the cab, then reached across for his partner's hand.

The two men shook hands, allowing their friendship and trust to smooth over the rough feelings from earlier.

Then Peter closed the door, and the cab disappeared into the night.

***

With the city quiet, and MJ asleep in the next room, Peter watched out the window at the city, thinking about a dozen things at once. Mostly, about Mary Jane.

"**_Peter?_**"

Peter turned, and there was his partner, seeming to appear from the darker corners of the room.

"My shift," Stephen told him. "Get some sleep. You've had a long day."

Peter nodded gratefully and looked his partner over. "You're looking better. Good tumo, I take it?"

Stephen nodded. "Dr Cranston's miracle cure. Good for all your aches."  He reached in his pocket for a small vial of purple liquid.  "That and some of Granddaddy's magic potion."

Peter smiled.  "I remember that stuff.  Quite a kick."

"Almost as good as a martini."

"That sounds good."  Peter got up and stretched.  "Call me if you need me."

"Before you go," Stephen said, stopping him, "we have a problem. What to do with Miss Watson."

"I thought the plan was to protect her."

"It is. But we can't keep playing defense, because sooner or later, Goblin will catch up, and we can't fight back properly without risking our identities. Chances are that it'll be a public place too, and then there'll be innocent people killed."

Peter thought that over and nodded. "So what do we do?"

Stephen sighed. "Any plan I can come up with puts her at great personal risk and makes me a cheap excuse for a human being."

"You'll come up with something," Peter assured. "You always do."

Stephen nodded and hoped the lack of confidence he was feeling right then wasn't showing on his face.

Peter gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the room.

Stephen took a swig from the purple vial and turned to the city night.

***

An hour later, Stephen was still staring into the darkness when he perceived movement. "Trouble sleeping?" he said without turning around.

MJ sighed and came into the room. "Yeah. Every time I close my eyes I expect Goblin to come through the wall."

"No sign of him so far."  He turned around to face her.  "Besides, he doesn't know this place exists, and certainly not that you'd be here."

"I suppose," MJ said. "So…this is a family business?"

Stephen smiled. "I'm a third generation vigilante."

MJ looked surprised.  "_Third_?"

Stephen nodded.  "The Shadow, master of other people's minds, terrorizing criminals and aiding the innocent since 1927," he said in a voice like a biography program narrator.  "A family business, founded by secretive psychic and wealthy young man-about-town Lamont Cranston.  Passed down to his son, billionaire businessman Victor Cranston.  Current CEO:  Victor Cranston's nephew, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Stephen Cranston."

MJ couldn't help but laugh slightly.  Stephen did seem to have a sense of humor underneath that dark and menacing exterior.  "But I'm guessing you keep that to yourself, huh?"

"You could say that."  He gave her a knowing look.  "But why don't we get around to what you really want to talk about?"

MJ started and sighed. "It's about Peter. More accurately, it's about Peter and me."

"You're in love with him but you don't know if you want to get close to him," Stephen said. It was not a question.

"It's not that exactly," MJ said, looking uncomfortable. "It's more about whether he'll let me. I don't know what he'll do, and despite our recent history, you're the only one I can turn to about this. What will he do? What should _I _do?"

"What is the story between you two anyway?" Stephen asked.

"Well, Peter and I have been friends for as long as I can remember," MJ said, reminiscing. "He was my next door neighbor.  We were both six when my family moved in next door to his, and we always went to the same schools, but we never really became close friends. I actually felt sorry for him most of the time."

"Ran in different circles?" Stephen guessed.

"Right. And that was the way it went. It was blindingly obvious that he was in love with me, but despite me always being grateful he was there, I never seemed to get any closer. Hell, after graduation I was dating his best friend."

"Osborn's son."

"Right again. And then..."

"…along came a spider," Stephen grinned.

"Right. Goblin's first attack. Spiderman saved my life, swept me off my feet, and swung me around town. I was seriously smitten." 

"With Spiderman. Not Peter."

"Yes."

"Let me savor this thought for a moment," Stephen chuckled. "O.K., go on."

"Somewhere along the way, I got closer to Peter too. He was actually the first guy who put me on a pedestal. He didn't want to show me off. He saved my life twice more, and soon after I find myself telling him I was madly in love with him. Not Spiderman. Peter Parker."

"And he turned away."

MJ nodded. 

Stephen sighed. He really hated discussions like these. "He pushed you away because he was scared. He was scared he was going to lose you to some lunatic like Goblin because you were close to Spiderman, afraid that the secret would scare you away, and just as afraid that it wouldn't.  Because if it didn't, if you weren't scared away by the whole notion of being involved with a superhero, and his dream came true, then what happens if one day he lost you?"

MJ looked chilled at the thought. "I don't know. So, if I go through that again, what would he do now?"

Stephen thought that over. "He wanted to protect you. He still wants that. The same reasons apply today as they did four years ago."

"Isn't that my choice?"

"Yes, but you have to remember what that choice entails. Waiting up nights hoping he'll come home alive, making up lies for him every time he has to go save the world. You hold both of our lives in the palm of your hand, Miss Watson. He trusts you with his secret, but getting close to him means more than that. Believe me, there's a difference between getting your bones broken and your heart broken. All it would take is one misspoken word. An innocent conversation about where your boyfriend Peter was, and even one slight inconsistency in your story is all it would take to kill him."

MJ looked bowled over. "Yeah. I never thought of it like that."

Stephen kicked himself. Was he trying to scare her away from Peter? "Look, I'm not the one to be giving advice about this. Personal experience has soured my opinion on this subject. And my uncle never married because the balancing act of running a billion-dollar business, raising a child, and saving the city was about all he could handle at once.  But I can tell you that my grandparents went through this sort of thing. They made it work. But her life was put in danger more than a few times because of it. And the thing that nearly destroyed them was the knowledge that it wasn't the two of them, it was the three of them--Lamont, Margo, and The Shadow.  But it also made them stronger, because it was the three of them together who made it work. You love him. That makes up for a lot of it, but that mask will always be a factor in your life together."

MJ bit her lip. "I know it will. But if I decide that I am willing to risk it? If I decide that it'll be worth it, despite the risks, what then?"

"Then you may yet again be sitting in a safe house, hiding from a maniac who's hunting the man you love."  He paused.  "And God help you if you ever end up on opposite sides of the law.  Because then, you become the most dangerous enemy he knows, because you know _everything_ about him.  And that knowledge makes you a very attractive target for his enemies, who will stop at nothing to get that knowledge from you."

A long pause.  "What was her name?" MJ asked knowingly.

Stephen sighed.  "That is a long story, best left for another time."  He turned and looked her square in the eye. "But if you do stand by him, if you do make his dreams come true, nothing on this earth could possibly make him happier, and he won't let anything happen to you as long as he lives.  And neither will I."

MJ smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

The two of them looked out over the city night.

Chapter Eight

Peter woke up as dawn hit his eyes. Fighting to stay asleep, memories of the previous day welled up suddenly. Sitting upright quickly, Peter jumped out of bed and headed toward the main room, when the sound of fighting met his ears. Shocked into movement, Peter leaped as fast as he could and smashed the lounge room door open, landing in a combat crouch, just as Stephen hit the floor with a hard thump at his feet.

But standing in the center of the room, wearing a tank top and trousers was not Goblin, but MJ Watson with her hair tied back and her knuckles wrapped with fighting bandages.

She turned to the door in surprise and grinned. "Morning, Peter. Sleep well?"

Still flat on his back, Stephen grinned, somewhat strained. "Morning, Peter. Help me up?"

Peter helped his partner to his feet. "What's up?"

"Well, I felt pretty useless to you guys," MJ explained. "Because I don't have a clue how to do any of the things you guys do on a nightly basis. I'm the one that gets in the way while you have to kill yourselves keeping me safe from the bullets. It makes me a pretty lousy agent."

"Lots of agents don't get in the way of the fighting," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm in to this secret society thing up to my neck.  If I'm no good at the fighting, then I don't get to be in the really important missions. Besides, I do have a maniac stalking me. I'm either bait or a third wheel and I really hate that."

"So I offered to teach her some of the basics of hand-to-hand combat," Stephen finished.

"She couldn't have a better teacher, but you could have told me," Peter said, relieved.

"If I had," Stephen asked, a twinkle in his eye, "you would have wanted to be her sparring partner. And that would have been counterproductive."

"How do you figure that?"

"One: You would have enjoyed it too much. Two: You would have taken it too easy on her."

Peter thought that over and couldn't help but nod. "So, how's she doing?" 

Stephen sighed and rubbed his neck. "She picks it up fast and puts me down faster."

Peter grinned. "That's my girl."

MJ looked modest. "Don't let him fool you, Peter. He's taking it easy on me. But that's O.K. I like challenges."

Stephen looked at her and smiled. "Really? We may get along after all."

MJ grinned. "So, what's next?"

"Well," Stephen mused, "you know how to throw a punch and how to balance yourself properly in a fight. Next, maybe try for some elementary martial arts. Chances are you'll have to come up against people stronger than you. This type of fighting is best against stronger and bigger opponents."

"O.K." 

Peter rubbed her shoulders boxing style and spoke in his best coach voice. "O.K., champ! It's all you! Take him hard and fast! Watch his left and remember to jab!"

MJ laughed and stood in the center of the room, entering a combat crouch.

Stephen did the same. "O.K., this lesson is about redirecting force. By just pushing it a bit to the side, the force behind someone's blow actually assists you. It uses your opponents' strength against them, and doesn't require a lot of power to do. Push the punches aside."

MJ nodded and raised her hands.

Stephen threw a punch, and MJ countered, pushing it aside with her forearm.

"Good," Stephen declared. "Again!"

Another punch; another counter.

"Again!"

Another punch; this one faster, another counter.

"Again!"

"Way to go, MJ." Peter applauded.

MJ grinned, distracted, and missed the punch that hit her square in the stomach.

Peter gasped, horrified. "Oh no, what'd I do? What'd I do?"

"Peter," MJ groaned, straightening up, "I'm O.K. Honest."

"Take a minute," Stephen told her, helping her to a chair.

Peter was panicked. "Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?"

"I ask myself that question about you every day," Stephen quipped.

"Watch it, darkman," Peter retorted.  "You're lucky I haven't put a fist through your ribcage for even touching hers."

"Bring it on, bug-boy," Stephen taunted.

"Oh, you are so dead."  Peter whipped a lightning-fast slap toward Stephen's head.

Stephen did a quick duck-and-dodge and mentally blurred Peter's vision for a split-second.

Peter, disoriented by the visual interruption, stumbled and fell into MJ, knocking her against a wall.  "Oh, no!" he realized, quickly helping her up.  "Oh, man…are you all right?  Man-oh-man-oh-man…"

"Peter, I'm all right," MJ asserted.  "I take worse bumps than that on the streets of Manhattan."

"I am SO SORRY!" Peter wailed.

MJ sighed and gave Stephen a look.

Stephen nodded discreetly. "Peter, why don't you make some breakfast? Miss Watson and I have been at this for an hour and a half now.  You can take out your frustrations on me when we're done."

Peter took a breath, nodded and headed for the kitchen.

"You O.K.?" Stephen asked.

MJ nodded. "Another minute and Peter may have wanted to donate a lung."

Stephen smiled. "That's why he's not the one teaching you this stuff."

Peter came back out. "We have year-old orange juice in the refrigerator."

Stephen slapped his forehead. "Oh, right. Nobody lives here, so stocking the pantry is a low priority."

"I could go buy some stuff," Peter volunteered. "It would give me something to do that won't kill somebody."

"Peter, I am O.K.!" MJ repeated. 

"Still, we do need the food," Stephen said logically. "And this is a single teacher class."

"Think that's my cue to go get the food," Peter said, heading for the door.

"There's a convenience store around the corner, between the library and the hardware store. Keep a low profile."

Peter nodded and headed out.

Stephen watched him go.  "I think he took that well.  He didn't even realize he was being thrown out."

MJ shrugged.  "His heart's in the right place."

"I know."

MJ gave Stephen an odd look.  "Does he know you do that to him?"

"What, 'convince' him to go do something and get out of my way?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes.  He's pretty perceptive.  I think he was distracted this time, though."

She gave him a scolding glare.  "You are dangerous."

He chuckled.  "You're just now figuring this out?"

"Touche.  What's next?"

"A variation on the misdirection tactic," Stephen said, returning to the center of the room. "This time, when countering my punches, pull it past you, which will…?"

"…cause you to overbalance," MJ answered.

"Bravo."

Stephen threw a punch.

MJ sidestepped, caught it, and pulled it past her as she turned.

Stephen allowed himself to be pulled forward and overbalanced, falling to the floor.  "Good!" he declared, jumping up. "Again!"

***

Peter walked down the street toward the shop, open to any warnings from his spider sense. Despite the very real possibility of attack, Peter found himself smiling. The girl of his dreams was an agent. She knew the whole story at last. And she wasn't unnerved by it. And she wanted to be a greater part of the mission. Now if he could just keep her alive, everything would be perfect.

Almost to the store, Peter suddenly noticed a crowd of people, an ambulance and a police car.  He subtly moved into the crowd and scanned them for familiar faces. "What's going on?"

A man in overalls turned to him. "Somebody broke into my hardware store last night and killed the guard."

Peter blanched and turned on his reporter mode. This was something that The Shadow would want to know. "Peter Parker, New York _Classic_," he said, flashing his press ID. "Was anything stolen?"

"Just some welding equipment, soldering irons, that sort of thing. Stuff you'd use to repair delicate metal instruments."

Peter heard the words 'repair delicate metal instruments' and almost passed out. It was crazy to believe, but it fit the profile of what Goblin would need to repair his glider.  He thanked the storeowner and drifted closer to the police, who were photographing the crime scene, the body covered by a sheet on the pavement.

Peter's enhanced hearing picked up just a bit of their conversation. "This is the third hardware store break-in today," one commented.

"I know," the other said. "But it's the first murder. I hate theme crimes. This is going to be called the 'Handyman Break-Ins', I just know it."

Peter had heard enough and fished through his pockets for his cell phone.

***

MJ stood alone in the center of the room, when an arm suddenly flashed at her from behind and gripped her around the neck.

The redhead struggled, fought, and squirmed, but nothing made the grip weaken.

"If this were real, you would be dead now," Stephen told her from behind. "Struggling isn't getting you loose, and you couldn't throw me off because I'm too prepared and balanced to be thrown. How do you get free?"

Still in his grip, MJ took a moment to think. "I have to weaken your grip and change your balance so that I can use your stance against you."

"Correct. Find a way to do so."

MJ was still a moment, and then threw herself backward into Stephen.

Stephen staggered a moment under the sudden additional weight, and his grip weakened.

MJ threw herself forward again, grabbed his arm, and stepped back, ducking; as she ducked, she pulled Stephen's arm down and threw him over her shoulder in a textbook flip.

Stephen unceremoniously thumped to the floor again, his arm still twisted in MJ's grip. "So ends today's lesson," he grunted.

MJ helped him up.  "You O.K.?"

He nodded.  "You're a tough cookie."

"I try."  She handed him a bottle of water. "I want to thank you for doing this, Stephen."

"Not a problem, Miss…," Stephen started to say when his cell phone rang.  He looked around for a moment, then spotted it on a table across the room.  He raised his right hand.

The phone practically jumped off the table and into his open palm.

MJ nearly choked on the water she was drinking.  "Holy…"

Stephen gave her a look to silence her, then flipped open his phone. "Stephen Cranston."

MJ started to leave the room.

"But the ice is slippery," Stephen answered, gesturing for MJ to stay.  He listened to the phone call for a moment. "Now, Peter, I was pretty certain that you wanted to go down to the market because you couldn't kill anybody doing it.  Want to tell me why there is in fact a corpse down there?"

MJ gasped.

Stephen raised an eyebrow.  "Really? O.K. I'm on my way. Yeah, I mean on _our_ way."  He hung up and turned to MJ. "Breakfast is cancelled. Grab your coat, we'll get Mickey D's later."

MJ grabbed her jacket and followed Stephen out the door.

Chapter Nine

"_Osborn, we are running out of time._"

Norman rolled his eyes skyward.  "We have plenty of time," he told his alter ego as he checked the weld he had just finished on his still broken glider.  "They are not going anywhere.  Parker in particular isn't going anywhere; he's probably mad as Hell at you right now and is trying to figure out what to do next without exposing himself further."

"_If you would work instead of talk, we'd be putting the pressure on him all the more._"

"I'm only talking," Norman said in an annoyed tone, "because you keep interrupting.  And besides, we ARE the same person, like it or not, which means you can only work as fast as I do."  He lit the fine welding torch's gas flame and leaned back in to fix another weld.

But instead of aiming at the metal, his trembling hand suddenly redirected the flame toward his bare forearm.

Norman jumped and yelped in pain.  "What the…"

"_You're right, Norman,_" The Goblin hissed in his head.  "_We are the same person.  But only one of us is strong enough to carry out what really needs to be done.  So if you don't stop sassing me, I'll drive you back into that fearful place you always crawled into when the pain got to be too much, when things got to be too much to take.  You can cower there all you like.  Then I'll REALLY get some work done.  Now, stop your sniveling and backtalking and get some ice on our arm._"

Norman grumbled and headed for the apartment's refrigerator.  Stupid Goblin.  That part of him was going to be the death of him yet.  Hell, it had already been the death of him once.  He piled some ice in a wet towel and smacked the cold compress on his burn.

"_Turn on the TV._"

"What, don't you want me to get back to work?" he taunted his other half.

"_Later.  I want to see what the media piranhas have to say about our latest handiwork._"

Norman grumbled and found the TV remote lying in the rubble of what was left from the previous tenant's furniture and turned on the set.  He scanned around the channels.

"_Game shows.  Useless...no, not Jerry Springer, you idiot…wait!  Stop!_"

Norman stopped flipping the channels at a station that was showing the live feed of the investigation outside what the talking head was calling the latest of the "Hardware Break-Ins".  He stared intensely at the screen, where cops and reporters and onlookers were milling about…one of whom had intensely brilliant red hair…

"_Well, well,_" Goblin said as Norman smiled.  "_And they say there's nothing good on TV any more._"

***

Stephen reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a credit card holder. But where there should have been credit cards, there were in fact identification cards.

" Secret Service...FBI...CIA...IRS..." he read out as he flipped through them.

"M-O-U-S-E" sang Peter quietly, and Mary Jane laughed.

"Ah! NYPD." Stephen said, pulling out the necessary card and heading over to the police officer on duty, who led him over to the body.

Peter was keeping a close eye on MJ while Stephen poked around the scene.  "You O.K.?" he asked her.

She nodded.  "Just a little nervous.  I never realized I could feel so exposed in a city so crowded and anonymous."

"I know.  There are times I feel like there's danger lurking around every corner.  But even Goblin can't see everywhere in the city at once."  He spotted Stephen coming back over.  "Any luck?"

Stephen shook his head.  "Nobody saw anything.  Typical. But from the state of the body, it was either Goblin or some guy with a chainsaw."  Then he frowned.  "Not sure I like that TV crew so close by."

Peter spotted the nearby reporter doing his stand-up story just across from the store's entrance.  "Somehow I don't think Gobby's a daytime TV fan."

"Just the same…"  Stephen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device the size of a pager, then clicked a couple of buttons on it.

The red light on the news team's handheld video camera went out.  "Oh, man," they heard the cameraman complain, "of all the time for equipment failure…"

MJ looked surprised.  "Did you just blow out that camera?" she whispered.

Stephen chuckled slightly.  "There's more than one way to cloud men's minds."  He fastened the device to his belt, then took one last look around.  "Come on.  Let's take a walk."

***

"We seem to have lost our video feed," the anchorette was saying as the picture on Norman's TV screen went blank.

"_Aargh!_" Goblin screamed.  "_Incompetents, all of them!_"

"Calm down," Norman told him.  "There are over eight million people in this city.  About five million of them are women.  And probably 25% or more are redheads."

"_Impressive,_" Goblin mocked.  "_You can do statistics.  Boring!  I'm telling you, that was her!  And where she goes, you know he's with her!  Now get back to work so we can go find her!_"

Norman was back at work against his better judgment.  If it would shut that blabbering monster in his head up, he'd get back to welding.  All the better to finally get back to hunting for Parker.

***

"So how long do you think it'll be before he's back hunting for us again?" Peter asked as they walked.

"Depends on how lucky he got in knocking over this particular hardware store," Stephen said, making notes on a small cream-colored card.  "Think we need to get Burbank to work on finding a pattern in the hardware break-ins to see if he's left any sort of trail."  He stopped in front of a narrow alley and handed the note to Peter.  "Drop box on the fourth floor, apartment 4-F.  I'll cover for you."

Peter nodded, then slipped down the alley, looked around for a moment, then hopped a full story up the wall and started scaling the bricks.

MJ gaped.

"Don't make it so obvious," Stephen noted, leaning against the wall and reaching into his pocket for a cigar.  "Act casual."

MJ forced herself to turn around and come over to join Stephen.  "Somebody might see him," she whispered.

"Doubt it," Stephen said, snipping the end of his cigar.  "Because to a passer-by, all they'll see is a wrought-iron fence and barbed wire that isn't really there."

MJ suddenly realized she saw that exact same thing out of the corner of her eye.  She turned and stared at the alley again, right at the most convincing mirage of black metal bars she'd ever seen.

"Turn around," he reminded her, casually fetching a box of matches from his jacket pocket.

She did, but her mouth was still agape.  "What the…how…?"

"Hypnotic suggestion.  There are wrought iron fences and razor wire gates all along this street.  This is one of the few alleys that doesn't have it."  Stephen lit the cigar and took several puffs.  "But the average person on the street isn't paying that much attention.  So they won't realize they're not seeing what they think they are."

"Mind clouding," she realized.  "That's what you mean by that.  People's minds are easily fooled because they don't really pay attention to what's around them."

"Right."

MJ giggled to herself.  "Unless it's a guy dressed in red and blue spandex."

Stephen gave her a chastising glance.  "That's the kind of remark you're going to have to be careful about in the future.  Most people won't know what you mean, but all it would take is one person who was even just a little suspicious…"

"Right."  She sighed.  "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"You get used to it."  He blew out a long puff of smoke.  "Still think you can handle it?"

She casually strolled by him and stood next to the building's doorway.  "Of course I can.  I'm an actress."

"A great one, too," Peter said from behind.

MJ nearly jumped out of her skin.  "Where did you come from?"

Peter gestured with his head toward the doorway.  "I do occasionally take the stairs."  He nodded toward Stephen.  "Your message has been delivered.  And no sign of anybody tampering with or otherwise staking out the place, just in case you were wondering if he was on your trail, too."

"Thanks."  Stephen took another puff on his cigar.  "So she's really good?"

It took a second for Peter to mentally switch gears.  "Oh, yeah.  I cried like a baby when she played Cinderella."

MJ rolled her eyes.  "In first grade."

"Ah, a child prodigy."  Stephen gestured with his head down the street.  "Come on."

Peter offered an arm to MJ.  "Going my way?"

"Of course."  She took his arm and sidled up to him.

Peter wanted to just beam.  It felt so good to have her so close.  Mary Jane Watson, the woman he'd been in love with his whole life, was by his side.  If it weren't for constantly looking over his shoulder for a green-armored lunatic who'd made it his life mission to hunt them down, this would be the perfect day.

***

The Goblin lay in wait.

***

Stephen's ring flashed.  "That was quick," he noted, then rapidly finished the fast food breakfast they'd picked up on their walk around town and tossed the empty wrappers in a nearby garbage can.

MJ looked at Peter and gestured with her head toward his ring.  "His pager?" she guessed.

"Kind of," Peter remarked.  "Now we have to catch a cab."

She rolled her eyes.  "My favorite activity in Manhattan.  Should I step to the curb and show some leg?"

Peter fought the urge to encourage her.  "Uh…as persuasive as that probably is, I think Stephen's got the situation under control."

And, as if on cue, a Sunshine cab pulled up to the curb in front of them.

MJ looked astonished.  "How did he do that?" she asked.

"There are some things better left unexplained," Peter replied, opening the rear door for her, then headed around to the driver's side rear door.

Stephen climbed in next to MJ and closed the cab door.  "To the Sanctum," he ordered.

***

The Goblin lay in wait.

***

"Boss!" Moe shouted. "Look!"

Stephen and Peter watched in amazement as the building down the street exploded into flames.

"Like a moth to a flame," Peter said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Mary Jane asked.

"This is a trap," Stephen said bluntly.

"Absolutely," Peter agreed. "But there are people in that building. He wants me to go in.  He thinks I'll leave her unguarded." He turned to Stephen. "So that means you have to keep her safe."

Stephen nodded. "Go. Don't go looking for the fight. Just check for civilians. I'll take MJ to the manor. It's one of the more fortified places we've got, and it'll force Goblin to decide which of us to go after."

Peter pulled on Spiderman's mask and jumped out of the cab.

"Stephen," Mary Jane said quietly, "he'll catch up eventually. Nobody ever won by defense alone."

Stephen nodded.

Mary Jane took a breath and steadied her resolve. "Goblin will not turn his attention to Peter fully till he's done with using me." She turned and looked him square in the eye. "You guys will not be able to fight back properly until I am dead."

Stephen shook his head. "Not gonna happen.  Not on my watch."

"I think it may have to."

"Not if I have anything to say about it.  And Peter will fight to the death for you."  He looked determined.  "But that's not going to happen.  Cranston Manor, Shrevnitz."

Moe nodded and turned the corner.

***

The fire in the building was intense, and the fire had begun in the center of the building, so the people in the upper floors were trapped. Spiderman had ferried a dozen of them to opposite rooftops, and was now running a quick search through the remaining room.

There was a screaming noise.

The spider-sense that had been tracking the flames continuously buzzed just a little louder. Goblin had used this trick before.

Spiderman moved toward the noise, and found a small bundle emanating the shrill noise. A baby wrapped in a blanket.

Spiderman fired over a web and pulled the baby over, catching it lightly.

The porcelain face of a doll looked up at him.

Horrified, Spiderman pulled the blanket away, revealing the head was mounted on a tape player, playing a continuous loop tape of a baby scream. And on the back of it was a message written in ink:

"You're still pathetically predictable."

***

"Get down!" Stephen shouted, pushing MJ flat on the rear seat and throwing himself atop her.

Moe ducked.

Razorbats swarmed in from all around and tore through the roof of the cab, turning an expensive touring sedan into a convertible.

Moe hit the gas and burned rubber onto the pavement.

Stephen turned around in the back seat as the cab moved at breakneck speed toward the manor, and saw the Goblin cackling madly behind them, his glider splitting the air.

Stephen popped open the underseat drawer, grabbed his automatics, and started shooting as the cab turned off the main thoroughfare.

Mary Jane grabbed the second gun out of his hand and started firing madly toward the Goblin, who was weaving in and out of their aim.

Stephen threw a quick look at the redhead. She was shooting like a pro.

She didn't even slow her shooting. "My dad was a redneck drunk and I went to a public high school in Queens. I learned how to shoot small arms before I was a teenager."

Stephen cackled in The Shadow's laugh and resumed firing at the maniac pursuing them.

The Goblin launched a missile as Moe pulled a hairpin turn to the right. The missile hit the ground just behind them burst into flame, setting the tires on fire.

Its wheels in flames, the cab sped onward.

Mary Jane ejected the empty magazine from her gun. "RELOAD!" she demanded.

Stephen handed her a clip with one hand.

Mary Jane reloaded, as the cab spun again, and threw Stephen into the shredded side of the cab. With the entire roof of the cab gone, Stephen overbalanced and almost fell out of the cab.

Mary Jane reached out and pulled him back in, even as she caught Goblin's armor with a sharply-aimed shot to the center of his chest plate.

Goblin screamed in rage and hit the accelerator jets.

***

_Too late,_ Spiderman chided himself.  _You're too late.  Again._

He'd seen the flames rising in the distance and heard the Goblin's cackle, but by the time he caught up with the sound, all he found was the wrecked, torn, mass-of-ouch formerly known as Moe's cab.

Landing next to the flipped cab, Spiderman looked around madly. "MARY JANE! STEPHEN! MOE!"  He flipped the cab over and found two unconscious forms in the cab…

…Moe and Stephen, both hurt and bleeding.  Moe was trapped beneath the crumpled steering wheel, and Stephen was bruised and bleeding from a long gash in his head.

Spiderman tore Moe free and checked his slow but steady pulse.  Satisfied that Moe wasn't going to die immediately, he searched the wreckage for Mary Jane.

"Peter?" Stephen called weakly.

"Stephen?" Spiderman asked in mortal fear. "Where is she?"

Stephen gingerly felt the cut above his eyes. "Never even saw him coming till he tore the roof off the cab. We fought him. She's a good shot. But I couldn't stop him." He shook his head clear. "He got her."

Spiderman let out an anguished cry. His anger immediately rose to meet it. "She's alive. He isn't going to kill her till I'm there to watch."

Stephen nodded and forced the pain from his mind. "But we don't know where."

Spiderman gave a very bitter chuckle. "There's only one place he'll take her."

Stephen looked up and nodded. "The manor first. Let's go."

Spiderman helped his partner to his feet and they made their way to Moe's motionless form. "Why the Manor?"

"Firstly to take care of Moe," Stephen said. "And then to reload. We're going to need some serious firepower."

Chapter Ten

"There!" Stephen directed Peter as he collected the last of the bandages, tightening the wrap around the last of his newest wounds until the tumo could take effect.

Peter found the latch and pulled, opening the hidden door in the armory.

Leaving behind the ceremonial masks and suits of armor, Stephen and Peter entered a room with some decidedly more lethal weaponry.

Long crates with a slight cover of dust lined the room.

Peter threw one open and was greeted with a row of the biggest guns he had ever seen.

Stephen picked up something that looked like it belonged to the Men in Black and started feeding in rounds from a compartment in the crate.  The ammunition looked like big silver canisters about the size of tennis ball cans each, with a sharp tip on one end, covered with an exploding head.  Stephen fed about a dozen shells into the gun, and closed the breach, handed it to Peter, and picked up another gun.

Holding the gun, Peter momentarily felt better. A gun like this seemed able to knock a tank over.

"This should get him off the glider," Stephen told him. "But this is going to rely mostly on you. You're the only one who can match him hand to hand. I'll take care of MJ, you get him down."

Peter nodded. "You wouldn't happen to have some of that go juice around, would you?"

"Brass cabinet, by the door."  He headed over to it, spun the combination lock, then opened it and pulled out a vial.  Removing the stopper, he took a swig and let the elixir rush through him, steadying his shaky and weak body.

Peter noticed the hardened look on his partner's face. "She's alive," he told Stephen.

"Of course she is," Stephen said dismissively. "The problem is not her, it's Goblin. He's stronger than us, he's better armored than us, and he's packing some major firepower himself."

"And his glider and Razorbats can work on automatic control…" Peter said, feeling his heart sink. "So that reduces the advantage our number gives us."

Stephen rubbed his chin in thought. "Uncle Victor won't get here till pretty late tonight. And I wouldn't want to send him against that planet buster." He closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then opened them and looked at Peter. "There may be a way to increase our number and give us an advantage."

"Great!" Peter said. "What is it?"

Stephen stared at the floor for a while. "Peter…I must ask you to step back and be incredibly quiet."

Peter did so, realizing that his partner was scared.

Stephen shoved a stack of crates aside, revealing a trapdoor in the floor.  With a shaky breath, he opened the trapdoor and lifted out a huge metal briefcase.

Peter gasped. He realized suddenly what Stephen meant to do.

Easing the metal latches open, Stephen opened the case.

And there it was.

Even as a typical blade, the Phurba was impressive. The tri-pointed blade and intricate dragon face were the work of a master craftsman. The deeply carved patterns that crisscrossed the surface could have been centuries old or brand new, and the whole knife glowed with the sheen of golden metal.

But Peter knew better. His partner had told him stories of what this weapon could do. This was the Phurba. The serpent of metal, the living blade, defender and guardian of the Tulku for twenty generations, until during the reign of the original Shadow, an errant student name Shiwan Khan had stolen the weapon and used it as a weapon of his own.  He had killed the twentieth Marpa Tulku, then brought the weapon to New York to challenge the original Shadow for world supremacy.

But Lamont Cranston emerged the victor of the battle, reclaiming Phurba and keeping it in safety.

The living knife, which obeyed the commands of the few that could control it, had not been used in combat for almost seventy years, for it was a danger to the wielders as much as its enemies.  Its wielder was required to possess a mind receptively open enough to bond with the knife's primitive intellect and projectively strong enough to direct its effort and override the knife's fierce attacking instincts that made it such a powerful defender.  Men had died trying to control Phurba.  Men had died simply coming near it.

And now, Stephen Cranston was reaching for it.

Focusing his powers, Stephen threw his mind open and felt the constant stream of thoughts that followed him throughout New York grow louder.

_Focus,_ he told himself. _Filter out the noise.  Amplify the required. Ignore the rest._

He drew his mind closer, focusing on the building. The thoughts of the staff became clearer.

_Focus.  Filter.  Amplify._

The circle of conscious thought around him grew tighter.  His partner's shock at the knife and fear for Mary Jane became loud and clear.

And from the knife sounded a feral scream that echoed in his mind.

He pushed his mind forward and opened his thoughts further, beckoning the screaming tone.

The noise fell to a small hiss, and a simple but ancient mind met his. _What is your wish, master?_

Peter watched silently as beads of sweat broke out on his partners face. 

The Phurba made no reaction.

Stephen opened his eyes and Peter saw his eyes turn black with power. **_"Phurba!"_** his mind commanded in The Shadow's voice.

The knife suddenly came alive. Its eyes flew open, and it levitated upward from the case, turning to look at Stephen.

Peter gasped and stepped toward Stephen, about to ask if he was O.K.

The Phurba spun as if shot and pointed its point at Peter.

**_"Phurba!"_** Stephen commanded again, and with a sharp hiss, the blade obediently leapt into his outstretched hand.

Peter took a moment to slow his suddenly racing heartbeat. He looked in disbelief at his partner.

Stephen smiled at the look. **_"One who knows how to command this blade could live comfortably in Hell,"_** he said calmly.  "**_Gun._**"

Peter handed him the huge shoulder cannon. With his eyes burning black, an enormous gun balanced in one hand, and the Phurba in the other, Stephen had never looked more like a dark and sinister stranger.

Moments later, Peter felt his fear turn to determination.  "Then let's unleash Hell on Goblin," he said firmly. "Any idea on tactics?"

Stephen nodded and led the way, The Shadow's sinister laugh following them up the stairs. **_"Tactics are obvious, Peter. We hit him till he falls down."_**

***

The Queensboro Bridge was a maze of latticework steel girders, and had only once seen Goblin's rage.

Tonight it would see it again.

Goblin hovered like a hungry vulture at one end of the bridge, watching as the traffic moved.

A bound and gagged Mary Jane Watson hung beneath his glider from a steel cable.

Goblin decided he wanted to hold this party privately, and aimed a series of missiles at the cars on the bridge, when suddenly he noticed the police waving people out of the bridge, and setting up a roadblock.

***

"You did this?" Spiderman asked.

The Shadow nodded. **_"I don't want any suicidal cops in the way."_**

Spiderman agreed and fired a web line.

***

Goblin heard the sound of web lines shooting by only a second before being hit, the sound drowned out by his glider's whine.

Spiderman slammed himself into Goblin hard, but the armored maniac stayed on his board, flipping it over until it was upright again, pulling MJ into a loop with it, until for a brief moment, their positions were reversed.

Just long enough for Spiderman to reverse his swing and catch MJ as she passed.

With the increased weight on his glider, Goblin knew at once where Spiderman was, and hit his afterburners.

And now both Spiderman and MJ were hanging from the glider in a desperate embrace as Goblin flew them like a guided missile towards the eastern tower.

Spiderman pulled at the cable with everything he had, and it was not enough.

His spider-sense screamed, and he spun them both to take the impact of a steel girder for MJ.

MJ screamed.  Spiderman groaned.

Goblin wove through the girders, swinging his passengers into one steel beam after another, with Spiderman just managing to keep himself between each steel beam and MJ, when something swooped into his vision so fast that nobody could follow it.

The missile-like object sliced into the undercarriage of the glider and severed the cable, cutting the battered vigilante and his charge loose.

Spiderman whooped as he saw the Phurba speed away, then fired a web blindly and swung them toward the bridge.

Goblin noticed the sudden loss in weight and circled back to find his captives.

Now it was a race through the maze of metal as Goblin cackled, bringing his machine guns to bear.

**_"Over here!"_** a voice whispered in Spiderman's mind, and he knew suddenly what to do with Mary Jane. Changing his direction dramatically, Spiderman reached out as far as he possibly could and grabbed the nearest brace with the fingertips of one hand, using his superhuman grip to effect a hairpin turn that almost pulled his arm apart.  Holding MJ by the end of the cable, Spiderman swung her like a ball and chain and released her into the air.

Mary Jane screamed into her gag as she went flying toward the girders around a gantryway...

…when something caught her firmly.

MJ opened her eyes and found herself staring into the face of The Shadow.

Spiderman kept swinging, drawing Goblin on.

The Shadow gently lowered MJ to the gantry and cut her bonds. **_"Are you all right?"_**

"I'm fine! Help him quick!" she shouted hoarsely.

**_"How good a shot are you with a bigger gun?"_** he asked.

MJ was about to answer when Phurba leapt into the Shadow's hand from nowhere.  She screamed.

The Shadow laughed.

***

Spiderman had been using every trick he knew to gain speed, and it wasn't enough. Goblin's bullets were getting ever closer and unlike Spiderman, Goblin was not limited by the need to have tall things to swing from.

Goblin had flown to a point outside the bridge's framework and was shifting side-to-side, aiming like the bridge was a shooting gallery.

Which it was.

Spiderman gripped his newest web line in two places and used it as a bar to swing backwards around when a sudden blast shook his eardrums.

Landing hard against the tower, Spiderman looked down to see MJ and The Shadow side by side, with the huge guns in their hands, firing the explosive shells up at Goblin's glider.

The first shot exploded hard against the front of the glider, and the board reeled to the left. The second and third made it jerk as if it had been hit, when Goblin finally got control enough to accelerate toward the two shooters.

Mary Jane and The Shadow fired madly, until blasts were echoing around Goblin so much that it seemed the glider was trailing a river of flame as it flew.

Finally the blasts knocked Goblin to the ground.

He was up in an instant, searching for his quarry.

The glider circled away and moved out of range.

Goblin saw The Shadow and MJ turn to run, and raced after them, catching up easily.

The Shadow turned at the last moment and swung on him, hitting him hard in the face.

The Goblin barely slowed, and pushed The Shadow away, reaching out and grabbing MJ by the shoulder.

Without hesitation, MJ reached back, caught his arm and used his weight to flip him over her shoulder to the ground.

For a stunned frozen moment, it was hard to tell who was more shocked.

Goblin wasted no time getting back on his feet, when a sudden blur swung in and picked him up.

Spiderman swung away, Goblin firmly in his grasp.

The Shadow turned to MJ. **_"O.K., get out of here."_**

MJ nodded and gratefully ran.

The Shadow pointed dramatically toward Goblin.

Appearing seemingly from nowhere, The Phurba appeared and shot toward Goblin.

Goblin yanked the web from Spiderman's hand and threw them both toward a gantry.

What followed was the most out of control fight Spiderman had ever been in. Caught between remaining balanced on the girder they were standing on, and delivering any punches with any force behind them, Spiderman couldn't fight adequately.

Goblin however, used the slight magnetism in his boots to remain balanced not on the glider, but on the curved beam.

Goblin attacked like a man possessed, punching and kicking, clawing and elbowing without pause.

Spiderman backed up desperately, blocking one punch after another, but for every blow he blocked, three got through.

Spiderman was blown back after a particularly hard uppercut, and slipped. Spiderman reached out on reflex to catch himself, pulling himself back up.

His spider-sense screamed just as Goblin's foot came down to crush his slowly rising head.

Punch-drunk, Spiderman looked up weakly...

…just as the Phurba came in and smashed its way into Goblin.

Goblin was knocked several feet back down the steel beam, as the tri-pointed blade worked its way in, slowly cutting into the armor around Goblin's heart.

The green-suited menace grabbed the blade immediately and started to pull it out, but the knife screamed and dug itself in harder. The armor stopped the blade from reaching its goal, but the Goblin felt the tip still digging slowly into his skin.

Using all his strength, Goblin managed to tilt the blade out of his armor, but the knife pulled at him, finally yanking him off the pipe altogether.

Still in shock from the utterly ridiculous attack, Goblin pushed a button on his wrist control and his glider obediently swooped down to catch him.

Landing hard on his glider, Goblin paused for a moment to get his bearings, and immediately saw the redhead running for safety.

_"NO!" _Osborn screamed in his head, even as Goblin threw a quartet of razorbats.

***

MJ was almost to the roadblock when she heard a hissing sound and spun to see the razorbats gaining on her.  She threw a quick look at the end of the bridge and knew there was no way to get there in time.

Two gunshots rang out, and the first two razorbats exploded.

**_"Keep running!"_** The Shadow's voice whispered in her mind, and she did, just as the strange dagger blew past her, turned practically on a mid-air dime, and shot for the remaining two razorbats.

Still running, MJ threw a look over her shoulder, and watched in amazement as the knife speared into one, exposing circuitry, then the other, knocking it away from MJ.

Acting on their limited programming, the razorbats turned to face this new challenge, and a strange dogfight ensued between the bladed weapons.

***

Goblin had sighted Spiderman at the far end of the bridge, and had opened up his afterburners, desperate to catch him, just as something shimmered into view.

The cable between two girders was pulled taut by The Shadow, just in time to catch Goblin painfully in the chest and pull him off his glider.

But The Shadow was not finished.

As the glider itself was pulling away, The Shadow leapt out and caught the front of the glider, clawing his way to the top of it, as it followed Goblin down.

***

Goblin had fallen eighty feet to the ground and landed on his shoulder, but rolled to his feet as soon as he had gone still.

Spiderman was there waiting for him.

The arachnoid vigilante delivered a karate kick to the solar plexus that sent Goblin flying, just as Spiderman fired a web into his chest, pulling the Goblin back like a rubber band into another heavy punch.

Goblin hit a button on his wrist pad again, calling in the glider to attack Spiderman from behind, when he looked up and noticed The Shadow standing on his glider, a laugh of sinister mirth echoing from him, swooping down with his automatics drawn and firing.

Panicked, Goblin hit another button, and the glider flew away, just as The Shadow jumped down to join the fight.

The Shadow fitted a gauntlet to his wrist and a punching dagger to his other, the blade extending half a foot beyond his knuckles.

There was a tense moment between the three.

Goblin threw a punch at The Shadow, which missed, just as Spiderman kicked him in the stomach.

Goblin blocked a punch from The Shadow, just as the blade on his wrist cut into his armor at the neck, still not piercing skin.

The Goblin punched The Shadow in the chin hard enough to knock him briefly off his feet, just as Spiderman karate chopped his face, shattering his eye lenses.

The two heroes attacked in perfect synch, two fighters working like clockwork, neither getting in the other's way.

For every punch the Goblin blocked, the others got in another blow.

Goblin suddenly went berserk. Screaming and hissing like the madman he was, he clawed and thrashed blindly, knocking The Shadow twenty feet away, and catching Spiderman around the neck, hurling him back and forth in a double axel, smashing him into the bridge hard enough to crack the surface.

A screaming tone filled his head again, and Goblin recognized The Shadow's mental attack.

Gripping Spiderman's neck tighter, Goblin looked around, and noticed a coil of black beneath the bridge lights.

Grinning, he pulled out a flash grenade.

***

The Phurba had pinned the final razorbat through, even as they flew through the air, and started to twist, cutting its final opponent apart. The razorbat was still spinning, though losing momentum.

Awed, MJ watched.

***

The Goblin threw the grenade, and the concussive force knocked The Shadow out completely, throwing him against the railing.

Cackling victoriously, The Goblin moved toward the inert form, dragging a limp Spiderman behind him by the leg.

***

The Phurba suddenly went dead, collapsing out of the falling razorbat and clattering to the ground, completely unmoving.

Fascinated, MJ headed over, now that the razorbats were destroyed, and gingerly reached toward the dormant blade.

***

The Green Goblin had both his opponents at his mercy, and took a moment to enjoy the feeling.  "And now!" Goblin said to himself and the masked men. "At last!"

_"No!"_ shouted Osborn inside his head. _"Before now it was a fight. No more."_

Goblin reached for The Shadow. "Do you really think that if we just let them live, they'll leave us alone?"

_"I don't care!"_ shouted Osborn._ "Better you than them! You're just a murderer! No! I will not permit this!"_

The Goblin's outstretched hand froze, and started to turn!

"What are you doing?" he screamed at the limb, starting to twitch and shake at the fight for control.

_"You have repeatedly demonstrated your strength,"_ Osborn said angrily. _"But you have also demonstrated that we are the same person! I will win eventually because you are pure evil! This is NOT RIGHT and I will not permit you to do this!"_

Goblin suddenly found that he had no control over his left arm, which immediately tried to reach for his throat.

Goblin used the one arm still under his control to hold it back, releasing Spiderman in the process.

Spiderman was revived by the brief drop to the ground, and was treated to the sight of Goblin trying to choke himself with one hand.

Staggering to his feet, Spiderman pulled back his fist.

***

The moment her fingers closed around the hilt of the blade, she felt a chill.

The Phurba immediately knew that it was in the wrong hands and began to fight.

MJ was stunned into immobility as she saw the face on the dragon-handle come alive and bite her deeply in the thumb.

Giving a shout of pain, MJ released the knife and it remained hovering before her.

Snarling, the enchanted knife spun its point around to aim at her and attacked.

MJ dove as it swooped past her face, and suddenly realized that she probably would have been better off with the razorbats.

***

Goblin saw Spiderman pull himself up for an attack and immediately forgot about protecting himself from Osborn.

With his controllable hand, Goblin pulled another grenade.

***

The Phurba attacked again, swooping at MJ.

She caught it as it came down, trying to keep both the knife-edge and the mouth full of long sharp teeth away from her.  But the harder she pushed and pulled, the stronger the knife seemed to get.

Ripping itself free of her grip, it somersaulted backwards, and the blade dove toward her exposed throat.

Suddenly, it stopped.

Then it moved backwards, away from her, hissed, and flew away at unbelievable speed.

MJ did the only thing a woman could do after being nearly killed by a centuries-old enchanted Tibetan ritual blade that suddenly and inexplicably spared her life.  She fainted.

Two black-gloved hands caught her as a dark shadowy figure whisked her away.

***

Goblin released the grenade, letting it drop...

Spiderman caught him under the chin with one hand, caught his arm with the other...

Goblin reached forward, and caught Spiderman with his good arm...

The grenade bounced once...

The Goblin started to squeeze Spiderman's neck...

Just as the Phurba appeared and buried itself in Goblin's stomach, ripping into the armor with enough impact to hurl the Goblin backward...

Spiderman felt his danger sense go wild, and leapt away...

The grenade went off with enough force to hurl them both over the edge of the bridge.

Side by side they arced into the air and fell toward the black water below.

Spiderman fired a web by reflex, and unbelievably it caught something.  He hung from the bottom of the bridge by a short web line.

Goblin caught his leg. And looked up at him.

"Help me," Osborn whispered. "Somehow you stopped him once. Can you do it again...before I tear you limb from limb…hee-hee-hee-hee-hee…" The Goblin's laughter interrupted before Osborn got control again. "He's just trying to scare you. Really, he's beaten...I tried to fight him...got control for a while...don't let him...him...h-hee-hee-hee-HAHAHAHA..."

With that, Osborn lost the last ounce of control over Goblin, and swung on Spiderman, catching him in the stomach hard enough to break his grip.

Spiderman started to fall when a gloved hand caught his wrist firmly. **_"HOLD ON!"_**

Spiderman looked up in relief to see his partner, conscious again, holding him up.

Goblin kept his grip, and pulled the once-again dormant Phurba from his stomach, raising it high to run Spiderman through.

The Shadow saw the blade and shouted. **_"PHURBA!"_**

The blade came alive in Goblin's grip, and started to spin angrily, desperate to get free.

Goblin looked at it in shock.

Spiderman used the moment of distraction to kick Goblin hard in the face.

The Goblin screamed as he lost his grip...

…then screamed even louder as he fell.

The Shadow pulled his partner back up to the bridge, and held up his hand.

The Phurba sprung away from Goblin as Goblin punched the controls on his wrist madly.

The triangular knife once again dove hilt-first into The Shadow's waiting grip as the glider flew down to meet Goblin.

The Shadow drew his automatics and started shooting.

The heavy bullets threw out the flight just enough to slam the Goblin in the side, driving him down...

…straight into one of the pylons.

BOOOOOM!

The glider and its maniacal pilot disappeared in a massive fireball.

Almost no wreckage fell to the cold dark water.

Spiderman and The Shadow looked at the fire, and then at each other, sharing the same unspoken thought.

But then, The Shadow chuckled.  A smile was evident in those mischievous blue-green eyes.

Spiderman looked at him and couldn't help but join in, their laughs growing into full-throated peals of laughter, echoing a victory cheer for all of New York to hear.

Then, slowly, reality set in.  "Where's MJ?" Spiderman declared.

The Shadow looked around.  "**_I don't know.  I told her to run…_**"  Then he paused, as if listening to something, and laughed again.  "**_She's fine.  An agent picked her up._**"

Spiderman started to ask who it was who'd picked up his lady love when a black limousine showed up on the access road below the bridge and pulled alongside the two heroes.

The rear window rolled down, and Victor Cranston looked out.  "**_Need a lift?_**" he asked in an otherworldly tone.

Spiderman and The Shadow exchanged relieved looks and climbed into the limo.  Then Spiderman gasped.

Lying across the rear seat, a bloody bandage wrapped around each hand, was MJ.

"**_She'll be fine,_**" Victor assured.  "**_She's resting.  She got a little too close to Phurba._**"

The Shadow looked across at his uncle.  "**_Which reminds me…quite a save Phurba made up there on the bridge._**"

"**_It was, wasn't it?_**" Victor smiled.

"**_Even if you do say so yourself?_**"

Victor nodded, opening his coat to show the dormant dagger, wrapped in a white silk cloth and sheathed in a Tibetan hilt.  "**_You were a little...outnumbered up there._**"

The Shadow reached across and clutched his uncle's hand.

Spiderman took MJ in his arms and held her close.

The driver pulled away as the lives of four tired warriors bonded once more.

***

Victor came down from the upstairs portion of the manor and joined Stephen and Peter in the living room.  "Shrevnitz is doing better," he remarked.  "Amazing what a little Tibetan elixir will do."

"How's MJ?" Peter asked.

"Sleeping comfortably.  She asked about you."

"Yeah?"  Peter looked curious.  "What'd she say?"

"She wanted me to reassure her that you were all right.  She was really worried about you."

Stephen looked at his partner.  "Sounds like love to me."

"Yeah, and that's the problem," Peter sighed.

Victor raised an eyebrow.  "Love is a problem?"

Peter frowned.  "Long story."

Victor looked at him.  "Let me guess.  People close to you end up in danger.  And you don't want them to.  So you try desperately to keep friends, family, and loves at arm's length."

"Even if it hurts the ones you love worse than any villain ever could," Stephen added.

"Oh, yeah, like either of you are in a position to lecture," Peter snapped.  "Let's see--we've got perpetual bachelor Victor Cranston, who raised his brother's kid alone because he couldn't figure out how to fit a woman into the mix of crimefighting and business and psychic phenomena, and perpetual bachelor Stephen Cranston, the only superhero who may be more unlucky in love than I am.  Yeah, like I need romantic advice from either of you."

Victor and Stephen looked at one another, then to Peter.  "Are you finished?" they asked almost simultaneously.

"Does it matter?" Peter retorted.

"I'm just wondering when this pity party of yours is going to come to an end," Stephen responded.  "And you have the nerve to criticize _me_ for having a mile-wide martyr streak?  My friend, you are the one with the serious bid for martyrdom."

"Look…you just don't understand."  Peter paced the floor, occasionally hopping from floor to ceiling and back again.  "I no sooner say hello to the woman again for the first time in four years, and she gets attacked all over again.  I no sooner let her into my secret life, and she gets stolen from me all over again.  I no sooner throw myself into the face of certain death to rescue her, and she gets hurt all over again.  I cannot take this.  And it is not fair to put her through this all over again.  She deserves so much better.  She deserves a life of safety, of sanity, of comfort."

"What if she doesn't want that?" Victor asked.

Peter looked at the elder Cranston.  "What?"

Victor crossed the room to the younger man.  "What if she doesn't want that?  What if she doesn't care about any of the danger and the risks and the fear of living with you?  What if she prefers that to the pain and heartbreak of living without you?"

Peter scoffed.  "Nobody in their right mind would choose that."

"My mother did."  Victor gestured with his head to the portrait of Lamont and Margo Cranston and their two sons on the wall of the living room.  "Margo Lane was no innocent.  She knew exactly what she was getting into.  She'd seen the danger.  She'd looked into the darkness.  She saw exactly who and what Lamont Cranston was inside.  And she stayed.  She never left his side again.  And God only knows how much danger she was in because she did.  But I never saw two people who loved each other more.  My father worshiped the ground she walked on and would have sacrificed his life for her.  And my mother was one of the finest and most dedicated Shadow agents I ever knew.  It wasn't easy, and they'd be the first to admit it.  But if you asked either of them, they wouldn't have traded the experience for anything."  Victor looked Peter in the eye.  "And I guarantee you that if I'd ever been able to find a woman like that, I wouldn't have been a lifelong bachelor."

Stephen got up to join his uncle.  "She loves you, Peter.  She knew the risk she was facing.  She knew the risk she was posing to both of us just by being with you.  But she was willing to fight Goblin, even against impossible odds, because of how much she loves you.  For God's sake, Peter, you're one of the smartest men I know.  Don't do something stupid."

Peter looked angry.  "Dammit, Stephen, you cannot always be right!"  And with that, he sprang across the room and was out into the hallway and racing through the front door with almost inhuman speed.

Stephen started to go after him.

Victor put a hand on his nephew's shoulder.  "**_He'll be back,_**" the elder Cranston reassured.

Stephen looked back at his uncle.  "**_How do you know?_**"

Victor glanced toward the mansion's staircase.  "**_Because she's still here._**"

***

Spiderman swung over the city, high above the rooftops, where somehow Peter Parker's problems all seemed so far away.  Why couldn't he just stay up here?  Life was so much easier when he was webbing through the forest of skyscrapers, when everything was so much more open and free.  No shadows…no goblins…no entanglements of any kind…

…all of which reminded him about what was waiting for him down below.  Which was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now.

But he couldn't help it.

Frustrated by the problems that kept pushing back into his mind, he zeroed in on an abandoned and condemned building near the waterfront and swung over to it.  He crashed through an already-broken glass window and landed on a rickety catwalk.  Catching his balance, he looked around at the wrecked interior.  "Wow, this place could use some remodeling," he wisecracked.

And with that, he ripped a beam from the ceiling and began brandishing it like a baseball bat around the empty building.  "Because, you know, nothing is ever as satisfying as just taking a wrecking ball to something."

He smashed out window after window.  "Or a wrecking bat, in this case."

He slammed the beam against a support column until the beam warped.  Then he looked at it in disgust.  "See, this is why they don't use metal bats in the big leagues.  They bend too easily."  He threw the beam aside, ignoring that it crashed completely through what was left of a small office, and grabbed a chunk of concrete and hurled it at the ceiling, punching a hole through the roof.  "And he knocks one out of the park!  Yes!"  He did a victory leaping lap through the room, tearing metal siding off the wall as he went.

When he'd run out of walls to tear down, he hopped to the floor and put his hands on his hips.  "Wow, what a mess.  You know, Peter, leaving all that stuff piled up in the middle of the floor is not good.  Aunt May will have a heart attack if she sees that much trash on the floor."  So he began rolling it into a larger and larger ball until he had something resembling a bathysphere in the middle of the floor.  "'Gotta take out the trash, Pete,' Uncle Ben always said.  So I'd better throw this trash out, right?"

Straining only a little, he lifted the ball of metal siding into the air, then hefted it across the room and right into a support column.

The column bent from the impact, and the whole room trembled.

"Uh-oh.  Think I'm done in here."  And with that, he bounded out of the warehouse.

He barely lingered in the air long enough to notice the roof caving in underneath him.

***

Stephen, restless and bored and tired of waiting for Peter to come to his senses, finally decided he needed to do something to actually earn the folding money paycheck the _Classic_ paid him bi-weekly, so he headed across town to his office to work on the story of the Green Goblin's demise.  Peeking around the newsroom to see if anyone other than the janitorial staff would notice his entrance, he pulled the key to his office out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

Stephen looked up to see the _Classic_'s editor, Clyde Marsh, coming angrily toward him.  And he wasn't in the mood to have to hypnotically smooth over Marsh's latest temper tantrum, whatever it was that was causing it.  "I work here, remember?" he responded calmly.  "This is still my office, right?"

"Yes, it is, but you're not supposed to be in it!"

Stephen raised an eyebrow and checked his watch.  "So what do you have in the pool?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, before five.  And I'll give you half if you'll get the Hell out of here until then."

Stephen looked surprised.  "Must be quite a payoff."

"Jenkins had to kick in extra because apparently you came in during his slot and nobody saw you, which is a $50 penalty.  And tomorrow, Bishop will find out he owes $50 for missing you tonight.  So yeah, it's worth it."

Stephen opened his office door to scoop up the various papers and files that had been slid under his door, then locked it again.  "See you tomorrow afternoon," he said with a laugh.

***

MJ stirred, slowly coming awake after what felt like the nap to end all naps, feeling very disoriented.  It took a moment for her to remember where she was--Cranston Manor, an older man who'd identified himself as Stephen's uncle Victor had told her before urging her to go back to sleep.  And boy, had she slept.  She wondered how long she'd been out…

"Hey."

MJ nearly jumped out of her skin, then looked around for the voice.

She finally located it at the open window across the room, where Peter was sitting on the narrow sill, one leg out the window and the other bent and propped against the opposite side of the frame, leaning against the frame as if it were the cushiest couch.  "Feeling better?" he remarked.

She still felt a little disoriented.  "Yeah, I think so.  How long have you been there?"

"A few minutes.  Had to get some air.  Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."  She looked at him for a moment.  "Aren't you afraid you'll fall?"

He shook his head.  "I have really good balance."  He looked a little nervous.  "You are O.K., right?"

"Yeah."  Now it was her turn to look nervous.  "Is the Goblin…"

"Yeah, I think so.  At least, I hope so.  It would be really hard for him to cheat death this time."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"Look, MJ…," Peter began.

"Don't," MJ interrupted.  "I know what you're going to say.  You're going to tell me that this is why you didn't want to be any more than friends, that this sort of thing happens to people close to you, that you didn't want it to happen to me, and that we shouldn't go any further with this because I'll just be in danger all the time."

"Well…," Peter began again.

"Don't," MJ interrupted again.  "Because I don't want to hear it.  I told you before, I want to be a part of this.  I want to be the one you come back to when you've spent a night saving the world from a demon like that, I want to be the one to tell you it's all right, I want to be the one who you can trust with your life no matter what.  Get this through that stubborn head of yours:  I LOVE YOU."

Peter just looked at her for a moment.  "O.K."

She looked surprised.  "O.K.?"

He climbed inside the room.  "O.K.  Because I love you, too."

She smiled.

He sat down on the bed next to her.

She slid over to give him a little more room, then settled into his arms.

Their lips met in a rich, lingering kiss.

***

The next morning, Stephen came out of his old bedroom in the manor to quite a surprise--Peter emerging from another room that he could have sworn housed someone else last night.  "Didn't Uncle Victor set Mary Jane up in that room?" he teased.

Peter just smiled.  "Yep."

One could almost call the next question tactful. "So I take it everything's…all right?"

Peter just smiled.

"I think that's the most satisfied smile I've ever seen you give," Stephen noted.

Peter just kept smiling as he turned to head down the hall.

"Oh, come on!" Stephen said, hurrying to catch up.  "Details, man, details!"

Peter looked as if he was going to go into orbit any moment.  "Thought you knew everything."

Stephen mock-scowled at him.  "I may have to hurt you."

"You'd have to catch me first."  Peter bolted for the stairs.

"Oh, you are so dead…"  Stephen raced after him.

"What's your hurry, boys?" came a feminine voice from behind.

Both men stopped in their tracks.

MJ emerged from her bedroom.  "What does a girl have to do to get breakfast around here?"

Peter practically leapt the distance back to her door.  "It just so happens that I know a wonderful little breakfast nook close by.  Join me?"

She took his arm.  "Better believe it, Tiger."

Stephen just stared as they sauntered by him, arm in arm.  "_Tiger_?" he asked aloud.

Peter and MJ just laughed as they headed down the stairs.

THE END 


End file.

Shadow, Adventure, Drama